


Blurring Reality

by Terrific_Lunacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballet, Dancing, Drama, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Instability, Psychological, School, Suspense, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrific_Lunacy/pseuds/Terrific_Lunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle, top student of the prestigious Hogwarts School for Dance. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster, searching for the hero in his famous end of year performance by holding open auditions. Harry Potter, attending said auditions only to listen to the live music for free. Severus Snape, acclaimed dance instructor, tolerating nothing but perfection.<br/>The line between imagination and reality, a fickle thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Technique meets Talent

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Niknąca rzeczywistość](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980079) by [Panna_Mi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panna_Mi/pseuds/Panna_Mi)



> Hi there :)! This story hit me suddenly and did not let me go. I needed to get it out of my mind, so here it is.  
> Updates might be excruciatingly slow, my main focus is on my other story. This one has thankfully less plot behind it and practically writes itself. I also plan to keep it relatively short.
> 
>  **Pairings:** I plan to make this a Tom Riddle/Harry Potter story. I wouldn't exactly call it a romance though. It's something more, err, twisted (?). There might be hints of Severus Snape/Harry Potter...maybe...but more of a mentor thingy.
> 
>  **Warnings:** The rating may go up, depending how far I take it with the pairing. The story will probably also soon take a turn towards something more darker and distrubing. Also, I have no experience in dancing whatsoever xD. So my knowledge is actually very limited and I have no idea how this will turn out.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the prestigious Hogwarts School for Dance, only smiled gently at his grim counterpart.

"How many times have you asked me that over the years, Severus?"

The man sat in front of his desk in the headmaster's office, scowling darkly at him. The expression was feared amongst his students, as it often ended in an excruciating exercise. Because they had known each other for so long now, it had long since lost its effect on Albus, much to Snape's chagrin.

"Too many times to count headmaster. It makes me wonder what exactly it is I'm trying to do here."

"And how many times did my ideas end pleasantly and not in the gruesome massacre you imagined?"

Snape had to keep himself from exploding. The headmaster had no clue just how much work Severus always had to do behind the scenes to make his ideas reality. However, being the man of icy control he was famous for, he sighed instead.

"Look Albus, I always respected your ideas to bring ballet out of the conservative clutches and towards something everyone can enjoy. But you have to do it step by step. You have already made too many controversial decisions for this year's end performance!"

"They aren't that controversial…" protested Albus.

"Performing 'A Prophecy' with nothing but students? The world will laugh at our attempt at such a difficult ballet! A female conductor for the orchestra? The critiques will tear her apart! Open auditions for the lead? That's the equivalent of saying our students aren't good enough to best mediocre hobby-dancers!"

"'A Prophecy' isn't much more difficult than other ballets. Most companies don't do it only because nobody can dance Voldemort's part. You know very well that the only reason I chose 'A Prophecy' was because Tom's technique is so flawless he will make the most difficult part in dance history look easy."

"And I agreed to it," reassured him Snape, "But why open auditions Albus? What good can possibly come out of these? Our school is the best and you worked hard to keep it that way. Our students have been hand selected by hundreds of instructors to finally arrive here. We have more than one senior who can dance the hero's part!"

"Technique-wise yes! But with absolutely no chemistry! There isn't a single student in this school who has understood the hero's part and can incorporate it."

"The end of year performance is the students' big chance to get contracts. Let Draco Malfoy dance the lead and I can guarantee you at least 2 of our students will get hired immediately. You don't have to sweep the audience of their feet, you have to do what's best for their future!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're aiming for acceptable, Severus?"

"I'm aiming for the possible!"

Dumbledore let out a tired sigh. "Look my boy, I promised I would choose one of our students if there was no one in the auditions that we both agreed on. So what's the harm?"

"The school's image will suffer Albus. You know how tough it is to stay at the top, things like these can kill us."

"How about this: We will hold the open auditions in three days- no, hear me out my boy. It will be on such a short notice that the news won't spread much further than London itself. Nobody will have enough time to prepare and the students form the other schools most likely won't take the chance. Besides, it will just be a day, you can take the time to relax from your teachings!"

Snape's displeased frown didn't disappear, but Albus knew him enough to know that he had once again defeated him by sheer determination.

"Fine. Fine! We'll have the bloody auditions. A day of looking at blemished technique, muscles with no control and stiff limbs. Yes, I'll enjoy myself _immensely."_

Despite what everyone said about his heartless and demanding nature, Snape was actually very confident in his senior students. Let the old man have his auditions.

There was no way some random street urchin would dance better than his trained students.

.

* * *

 

.

"Harry! Haaaarrryyyy!"

"Hm, what?"

Harry stopped moving and looked around himself, suddenly realizing that he was standing on a park bench. Where was he?

"You're doing it again! Dancing with no music, yet completely blocking me out!"

He turned to his best friend who sat on the bench next to him. Right, they had met after work in the park that was closest for both of them. Harry had spaced out again.

"Sorry Ron. I just felt like moving after sitting ten hours behind that bloody counter." He jumped down and sat on the bench.

Ron let out a defeated sigh. "I can't believe I'm surrounded by dancers, maybe I somehow attract them?"

"Sure Ron, it's all your fault," laughed Harry.

"No seriously! Ginny now wants to dance professionally too, after constantly hearing from the twins how happy they are in that damn school. Percy has resigned pretty soon this time, he says at least she's a girl."

That damn school. Hogwarts. One of the top dance academies of the world. Without a doubt the best in Britain. And the most expensive one of course, but having more money didn't secure you a spot as a student.

To get in, you had to be a genetic freak, one in a million, with perfect dancer physique and years of practice. To get a scholarship was practically unheard of.

The Weasleys had done it four times.

They weren't a famous dance family like the Malfoys, in fact, they were dirt poor. Arthur and Molly Weasley were musicians, doomed to remain below the spotlight, but still as passionate about their art as in the beginning.

Their children had grown up in a house that was constantly filled with music. But the kids hadn't taken up any instruments. Instead, they had moved.

Bill was the first of them to get into Hogwarts, free of the murderous tuition fee. Charlie had followed, Percy had resolutely refused to even take one single lesson of dancing despite having the same perfect physique as his brothers, the twins had gotten into Hogwarts last year and Ron…Well…He was just Ron.

If it wasn't for the red hair, one would think he was adopted. His shoulders too broad, his joints too stiff, his ankles too weak… He just didn't have the right genes. But Harry's best friend never cared, for he had never understood the pull dancing and music had on his family. For now he was finishing his education and working a part-time job, a resigned spectator amidst his dance-crazy family.

Still, Harry knew Ron had already spent a good deal of his hard-earned money on dance lessons for his little sister. He loved his family unconditionally, no matter how many times he cursed their unprofitable passion.

As for Harry… Orphaned since he could remember, left at his aunt's doorstep, handed over to the depressing hell they called orphanage, he had ran away when he was 13 and never looked back.

Starved, half frozen to death, dirty and overall in the most pitiable state a human could be, the Weasleys had found him unconscious on the streets. Despite, or maybe because, being poor themselves, they had taken him home and nursed him back to health.

He had never seen so many kind people in one place.

It had also been the first time he had heard classical music. It had made him cry and laugh and despair, leaving him a shivering and sobbing mess on the Weasleys' couch.

And then he had walked in on Charlie while he was dancing in the attic. It had looked as if he was flying, as if he were free, expressing the emotions the music made Harry feel through movement.

He had tried to imitate him. And succeeded.

A natural they called him. Raw, uncultivated talent, hidden away in his small, malnourished body.

Since then, not a day went by without him dancing.

He had managed to get some part-time jobs and rented a room in the most worn-down part of London. Even if he would get a scholarship from Hogwarts, he still wouldn't be able to attend, because the scholarship didn't cover his living expenses, only the tuition fee.

But Harry wasn't sad about that. He just wanted this year to be over. He would be 18 next year, free to get a real job, preferably in some bar where constant music was guaranteed. If he could dance on a few nights to get some extra money, he would be as happy as anyone could be.

"Yo Harry! How is our favourite wasted talent doing today?"

Ron and Harry looked up at the familiar voices. Ron groaned, but Harry grinned broadly at the approaching twins. Their company was always bound to include laughter.

The twins sat down left and right from him, returning his grin.

"Yeah about that wasted…" began one.

"See, we think we can do something about that."

"Ta-daa!" Fred waved a flyer in front of Harry's nose.

Harry took it and read it sceptically. "Open auditions? Come on guys, I told you I don't want to attend Hogwarts."

"Oh but it's not auditions to get into Hogwarts!" clarified George.

"Nah, it's just for a part in our end of year performance," added Fred.

"No strings attached so to say!"

"Yep, you can just come in and dance your cute little ass off…"

"…and make everyone regret they didn't _force_ you to become a professional dancer."

Harry laughed at their attempt to look intimidating. "That actually doesn't sound so bad, but I can't. All the rehearsing would interfere too much with my jobs."

The twins exchanged a meaningful look. "Ah but see… We're doing 'A Prophecy'.

Harry stared at them speechless. "' A Prophecy'? _The_ prophecy-…But- that…"

That was impossible. 'A Prophecy' was well-known for being the most difficult ballet piece in history. A school celebrating the graduation of his senior class shouldn't be able to even pull off half of the piece.

Harry had seen it on DVD, actually, he watched it almost once a week. He couldn't describe what it was, but something about the piece just drew him in. No other ballet had ever made so much sense to him.

Especially the Hero. A ridiculous name for a character yes, but Harry understood him. Knew him. Lived him.

The piece was about him finding out about a magical world, hidden from view. About his interactions with his friends, foes, professors and of course, his nemesis.

'A Prophecy' was also famous for the distinct lack of names for his characters, even the leading ones. The hero was simply that 'The Hero'.

With the exception of He-who-shall-not-be-named. Ironically, Lord Voldemort was the only character with a name. And the one that made the piece so infamous.

In one century, there might be one dancer who could pull off Voldemort's choreography. It was said that when the piece first emerged, the dance companies had laughed at it, claiming the part of the villain was simply impossible for a human to dance.

Salazar Slytherin had proven them wrong.

Since then, dance companies all over the world tried desperately to perform 'A Prophecy', for if you succeeded, your name would be equal to eternal glory.

"We thought you'd be interested," smirked George

They saw Harry's lack of reaction and changed tactics. "Look, just come and have fun at the auditions. You can dance on our big stage!"

"And there's live music! A whole orchestra!"

"The teachers don't expect anyone outside of the school to get the part anyways…"

"Especially Snape," specified his brother.

"That slimy git."

"So you're relatively safe not to get the part," explained Fred.

"Relatively," George pointed out.

"There's always the possibility you'll have them on their knees, begging and sobbing…"

"…A natural reaction to your dancing, really."

"But you could still _decline_ of course."

"At least we think so," mused Fred and they exchanged knowing glances again.

"You can never be sure with Malfoy…"

"…He might lock you up…"

"…But let's not think about _that_."

Harry laughed again at their onslaught of arguments. "Okay I get it! Spare me the gruesome details! When is it?"

"In three days. The news just got out."

"We think Dumbledore has finally cracked completely," whispered George conspiratorially.

"But we saw that coming after he announced we'd do 'A Prophecy'."

The twins turned to their brother. "Ron, try guessing what parts we got, even though we aren't seniors yet."

Ron stuck his tongue out at them. While Ron wasn't interested in dancing, he was still bound to get a lot of passive knowledge about the different ballets.

"Oh I don't know… How about two trees?" he taunted.

"Argh, you wound us little brother."

They sprang up and made a show of bowing in front of Harry.

"'Twin 1' and 'Twin 2', at your service," they exclaimed in unison.

"We keep changing between the parts."

"Snape suspects, but he can't prove anything."

"It drives him crazy."

"Anyways…" They sat down again, flanking Harry.

"We _will_ drag you there by force if we have to."

"We know you won't be able to resist once the music starts."

Harry sighed and read the flyer once again, still in disbelief. "And you're really doing 'A Prophecy' with students? Who plays Voldemort?"

"Aaahh…" moaned the twins in unison, their faces locked in a mask of pure agony.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Top student," said George.

"Top asshole," clarified Fred.

"Arrogant, proud, conceited, egoistical, psychopathic…"

"In short," interrupted his brother, "The guy was born for that role."

George imitated a dreamy expression like that of a lovesick teenager. "Look at his technique! His feet! Flawless! Perfect! How graceful! Those turns! Those jumps!"

"One would think he's some kind of reincarnated god."

" _He_ certainly thinks he is."

Ron yawned disinterested. "You guys know it's already ten past one right?"

"Oh fuuuck! Our lunch is over."

"And we have Snape first thing afterwards," groaned Fred.

They hastily packed their things and ran off, but not without turning back one more time.

"See you in three days Harry!"

"Dead or alive!"

"Your choice!"

.

* * *

 

.

It seemed to Harry as if he had only blinked once before the day of the open auditions already arrived.

He hadn't practiced at all. His various jobs left him no time, his small room no space and his penniless state no chance to change that fact.

But as he walked through Hogwarts' massive main entrance and into a horde of nervous bundles, the anticipation in the air almost choking him, he couldn't help but feel privileged that he didn't want the part. Those that wanted it desperately looked ready to keel over.

The twins arguments had convinced Harry relatively easily. There was no way for him to dance the part – both because Hogwarts wouldn't take an untrained dancer and because Harry didn't have time anyways – but the audition would give him 15 minutes on a real stage, with the perfect surface to dance, live music and dancers that knew what they were doing.

He didn't get the chance to dance with a partner very often. Only sometimes with one of the Weasleys on holidays.

As soon as everyone had registered, they were informed that they would in fact, dance with students from Hogwarts during their audition. They weren't just looking for someone who could dance, they were looking for someone who could play the part and was compatible with the dancers that already had a confirmed part in the piece.

Harry hoped the twins would be there, but of course, depending on what act the judges wanted to see, their characters might not be needed.

"Another Weasley?"

"Seriously?"

"Do you think he didn't get into Hogwarts?"

"How sad…"

"His physique is a bit…"

Harry ignored the hushed whispers around him and went to greet his best friend.

Almost all the contestants had brought family with them. They would be able to watch the different auditions while sitting with them in the auditorium.

Harry was fine on his own, but Ron had insisted he needed to come for 'moral support'.

"Come on, let's get this over with," grumbled Ron and dragged him to a seat in front of the stage.

"You certainly sound grumpy."

"Well, it's this bloody atmosphere in this bloody school. Makes my stomach all knotty. If they're all so nervous and jittery, why are they doing it to themselves in the first place? Gosh, I just don't understand you dancers."

"Hey don't look at me," protested Harry. "I don't get it either. That's why I don't want to be a professional in the first place remember?"

Of course earning enough to live by dancing sounded appealing, but there was too much negative stuff for Harry's liking.

Making it in the dance world was extremely hard, very painful, often lasted only a few years and you constantly had to watch your back for competition. If you made one mistake during an important performance, your career you sacrificed your whole life for was over within seconds.

It wasn't what Harry wanted at all. He just wanted to dance.

There was a general hustling around in the auditorium, dancers trying to calm their nerves, relatives trying to calm them down, people gossiping about famous dancers and musicians from the orchestra getting ready for their first rehearsal.

"That's a big orchestra just for a school performance," remarked Ron.

"It's Hogwarts," he shrugged.

"She's cute."

Harry looked to see who had caught Ron's interest. "Hm? Which one?"

"That bushy haired one over there…"

Harry searched for the girl, who suddenly spun around and glared in their direction.

"I can hear you, you know."

"Wha-… No way!" Ron turned to Harry in disbelief. "She's kidding right? That's way too far away and we weren't that loud."

"Well what can I say, my ears are extraordinary," the girl shot back.

Ron leaned back in his chair sulkily. "Her teeth certainly are."

"I said I can hear you!"

Harry held up his hands in an attempt to calm them down. "Sorry, my friend has a love-hate relationship with musicians."

The girl threw her impressive mane back and stared haughtily at them. "I'm not a musician."

"Oh? What are you doing with the orchestra then?" asked Ron crossly.

The girl gave them one last look, clearly deeming them unworthy of her attention, before turning her back at them. "I'm the conductor."

Ron stared at her speechless and even Harry raised a surprised brow.

Headmaster Dumbledore certainly seemed to be at war with conventions. His end of year performance would prove to be interesting. Maybe the twins could somehow smuggle him in to watch the final performance?

He was pulled out of his musings when the whole auditorium began to clap excitedly.

The judges had appeared on the stage. Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster of course, Severus Snape, renowned critic and dance instructor, Minerva McGonagall, former prima ballerina and now teacher at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy, the embodiment for everything the name Malfoy stood for, as well as some others Harry couldn't name.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at the assembled dancers and spectators. "Welcome! It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts first open auditions! We are all looking very much forward to your performances. Now, a bit information first. You will all draw a lot out of this hat in order of your assigned numbers. The lot will indicate what scene from what act you will dance."

Excited murmurs broke out in the audience. They would dance different parts? How would the judges compare their performances? What if you just had bad luck?

Dumbledore held up his hands to ask for silence. "We do this so our students who already have been assigned a part will be able to start rehearsing. It will also make sure that everyone had the same time to prepare themselves mentally. As a last thing, we hope you realize what a privilege it is to be here. Acclaimed critics will watch our end of year performance and companies may offer contracts to dancers who caught their eyes."

There was even more whispering after that. Everyone wanted a contract. It all but guaranteed a shining future.

"Our senior students have all reached the professional level. We are holding these auditions because we had trouble finding the right dancer for the Hero. But even so, I have to inform you that even if you are the best dancer here, it could still be that we will choose one of our own students in the end."

He paused to let that sink in, and the audience to grow quiet once again.

"Now, without further ado, may number one please step forward? Good luck to all of you."

And so it began.

The contestants were… Well… Harry didn't blame Severus Snape for his scowl.

They were dancers sure, but nowhere near professional. Most of them were mediocre at best. They made a stark contrast to the Hogwarts students who danced with them.

Some of them seemed to genuinely be happy for the opportunity though, a sentiment Harry could identify with.

Dancing was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a tool to express yourself. It should never have to be about being the best. Lamentably, that's exactly how it was at the professional level.

Harry was a bit confused about Hogwarts' reasons to hold open auditions. Yes the hero was a very tricky part emotional-wise. The character evolved clearly during the piece and showed many different sides depending on who he was facing. Since all the other roles were already assigned, they had to search for someone who could get the chemistry right with all of them.

These were things you couldn't achieve with technique alone, but still… Forcing such famous people to watch mediocre dancers seemed like a waste of time.

After several hours and dozens of contestants, Severus Snape clearly was at the end of his patience. It was quite amusing to watch in Harry's opinion.

" _Miss_ Lovegood," the dark man pressed out. "This is an audition for the _male_ lead."

The petite girl with the long blonde hair didn't seem concerned at all. "Oh. Well, it said open auditions so…"

"Ah what's the harm," smiled Dumbledore gently.

Snape turned to him rigidly. "The harm? We are wasting our time Albus!"

"Come now Severus, let her dance. Who knows? Maybe what we were searching for was a heroine all along!"

"You are not actually considering that?"

"Just let her dance. It's only 15 minutes, it won't make a big difference."

Snape's lips were trembling with the effort to restrain himself, but he didn't object anymore.

The girl was good. She was the first one that appeared to be on the same level as the Hogwarts students.

She was also lucky to draw a scene with the twins in it. The two obviously loved the gender-twist and she looked as if she had an awesome time on the stage.

At the end of her audition, the audience broke out into applause. She smiled brightly at all of them and gracefully made her way down the stage.

After her, the differences in the skill of the contestants was even more obvious.

The tension rose. The anticipation and excitement had been high before, but it became palpable now. They had seen scenes with the hero's friends, the godfather, how he first discovered magic, fights with dementors and werewolves and how he travelled back in time, but no one so far had drawn a scene with Voldemort in it.

Harry started to wonder whether that was intentional. Maybe the school wanted to hide this brilliant student away until the big performance?

He had to admit that he was a bit disappointed. Since he wouldn't have the money to go watch the ballet, he had been looking forward to at least see him dance at the auditions.

He wanted to see him for himself, the young man that would step into Salazar Slytherin's shoes.

But the hours went past and no Voldemort scene appeared.

Still, Harry didn't regret coming. The orchestra was brilliant, the Hogwarts student were a joy to watch even though they didn't have time to practice their parts yet and he got to see some of the most famous persons in the dance world.

When they finally called his name, startling Ron out of his slumber, Harry felt completely relaxed.

Since he didn't want the role anyways, he had absolutely no reason to be nervous. He didn't necessarily enjoy other people watching him dance, but he knew after a few seconds he would forget all about them, completely blocking everything out except the music.

He went up to the judges and McGonagall handed him the hat. He stuck his hand into it and grasped one of the paper slips. He gave the hat back, opened the paper and read it.

And paused.

"Mr Potter, please read your designated scene out loud," stated Snape monotonous.

Harry checked his paper again. Twice.

"Act 5," he read slowly. "Scene 11: The possession."

The people in the audience literally snapped to attention.

It was a Voldemort scene. In fact, it was all about the Hero slowly being possessed by Voldemort, becoming him, fighting an agonizing internal conflict.

If Harry had wanted the part, he would have cried in dismay upon reading his lot. The possession was after the final battle in act 7 the most demanding scene for the hero.

But as it was, Harry's heart jumped with delight. It was one of his favourite scenes. It would start out with a bit of fighting with Death Eaters and a small part with the Headmaster before becoming a duet between the two nemeses.

He would dance with Tom Riddle. He couldn't wait.

Harry took his position in the middle of the stage, where already a few Hogwarts students had appeared.

The music began. The students attacked. Harry evaded, dancing like a leaf in the wind, twirling amongst the Death Eaters. Sometimes one managed to grab him, throwing him high up in the air.

They were brilliant dancers. Harry didn't have to worry about anything except his dancing, whenever a position required a Death Eater, one of them was there, ready to assist him.

The music changed to something less dramatic and Harry fled from the fight.

The Death Eaters disappeared and Harry met the Headmaster. They did a bit of synchronized dancing before the music abruptly stopped, leaving the two dancers hanging awkwardly and alert on the stage.

The music slowly picked up. Something dark was coming. An attack out of nothing, the Headmaster jumped in front of Harry to shield him, but the assault flung him away, off stage.

Harry only caught a glimpse of Tom before the dancer was already there, pushing him down violently.

Harry rolled quickly to his feet leaping away from Voldemort. But his nemesis was everywhere, allowing him no escape.

Harry jumped and ducked and leapt, twirled and spun, even attacked him once, but Voldemort was merciless.

Harry could feel his adrenaline kicking in and small drops of sweat began to form on his forehead.

And then Tom - Voldemort? - started circling him, drawing closer, tightening his control. He forced Harry to synchronize with him, setting a hellish pace to keep up.

Normal synchronized dancing was relatively easy, as long as you practiced endlessly with your partner. It was much harder to imitate, to become your partner. It required you to analyse his dancing style, to know the person behind the dancing. This meant it was practically impossible to get it right.

Harry soon realized another problem. Tom's dancing style was the complete opposite of his. His technique was flawless, all his movements executed in perfect control, his feet firmly on the ground. Harry was floating, his body moving in wild, barely controlled, energetic motions.

For an untrained dancer to imitate Hogwarts top student bordered on the impossible. Still, the more Harry concentrated on Voldemort's dancing, the more he lost himself in it.

He didn't know if the change was big enough for the audience to see, but it certainly _felt_ as if he was slowly brought down to earth, suddenly aware of the control over his muscles, his body forced to use the proper technique.

He lost himself completely when his mind seemingly let go of the concept that was Harry Potter. The other dancer wasn't a separate person anymore, he was just another part of him.

He barely registered when Voldemort made his final attack, shoving him to the ground. Harry let himself fall…and was caught by his - no, the Hero's - friends.

They gently pulled him to his feet, smiling and laughing, dancing around him. He yearned to stay with them, to remember who he was, but they nudged him back into Voldemort's clutches.

He broke free of the oppressing techniques and let the energy flow back into his movements. He remembered how to breathe again. As he forced Voldemort back with his turns, a smile broke out on his face. He was free.

He did a final jump that brought him right in front of Voldemort and the Hero stared his nemesis fearlessly in the face.

The scene ended.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, breathing hard.

The first thing he noticed was deafening silence. He blinked a few times, realizing that Tom's face was only inches away from his. The student's eyes were slightly unfocused, telling Harry that he as well had been completely entranced by the story.

Harry clumsily took a few steps back. His body felt oddly heavy now that the music was silent.

He glanced down into the audience and searched for Ron.

His best friend was gaping at the stage, but a big grin split his face as soon as he caught Harry's eyes. He gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Uhm… Err, yes… Thank you, ah, Mr Potter, that was quite… yes. Ahem, thank you."

Harry slightly inclined his head in the judges' direction and made his way off the stage.

He had already turned away when suddenly Tom's hand shot out, clutching his wrist painfully and yanked him back.

"Ouch, what the..!" Harry exclaimed dumbfounded.

Tom stared calmly at the judges who seemed to squirm a bit under his intensity. The student's features were determined and unyielding.

He pulled Harry even closer, his grip tightening even further.

"I want him."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are much appreciated :). They tell me whether I'm alone with my crazy mind or not...


	2. When Offers turn into Orders

"That was absolutely brilliant mate! You should have seen yourself! You should have seen _him_ and…everything really!"

Harry blended out Ron's unusually excited babble and glanced back to the stage.

It had taken all of the judges combined effort to convince Tom Riddle to let him go and continue with the auditions. At the end, Dumbledore had to physically peel his fingers gently off of Harry's wrist.

The headmaster had also assured Tom they would talk about the cast when it was time for the call-backs. Harry had deliberately omitted that he had no intention whatsoever to actually dance the part.

There was something very unnerving about the sheer intensity of Tom Riddle. Something that wasn't quite…sane. It had faded, after a few minutes, and Harry had dismissed it as a side effect of immersing himself into Voldemort's character.

Still…The narrowed eyes that continued to stare at him from the stage were quite enough to unsettle him.

Ron had dragged him back to their seats, despite Harry's protests. He had actually wanted nothing more than to go home and curl into ball until his overwhelming emotions had calmed down a bit. He often lost himself in his dancing, but _that_ , that had been something else.

Tom's convincing performance hadn't exactly helped the matter.

But Ron had been insistent, claiming that Harry absolutely needed to see Tom Riddle dance for himself. It was rare for Ron to show any kind of interest in something dance-related, so Harry had eventually resigned.

A couple of auditions went by without another Voldemort scene, but one of the last contestants drew the final scene in act 4. The resurrection.

If possible, the audience seemed even more excited, greedy to see a repeat of the previous performance. The boy who had drawn the lot looked anything but happy. This may or may not have had something to do with the very stern looking elderly lady in the first row. The poor boy looked ready to cry.

The dance began and it took Harry several minutes to even notice that there was, in fact, someone else dancing besides Tom. Top student indeed. He had already experienced Tom's dancing and extraordinary technique, but watching him now was something completely different. He had known Tom was good, he just hadn't expected that the dancer would literally absorb everyone's attention. It was mesmerizing.

The other boy that was dancing with him looked exactly how he had when drawing his lot. Unhappy. Forced. As if he were in the wrong place and wondered how he got there.

Even so, once Harry forcefully ignored Tom, the boy was actually quite good. If he had drawn any other scene, he would have made a stunning impression. But he couldn't hold himself against Tom, the student just had too much presence.

"You were so much better," whispered Ron next to him, "You know, not really dancing-wise, just…I don't know, something just clicked. Now it's like the Hero has already lost."

"He's still fighting though," Harry murmured back. "I'd give him points for persistence and dedication. And he _is_ good."

"Yeah sure, but he's not the Hero."

Despite Ron's claims, there was a huge applause when the audition ended. Though Harry guessed most of them had only eyes for Tom.

The auditions ended soon after that, with a bright smile from Dumbledore and the prospect of call-backs for any contestant that may have caught their eyes.

Harry and Ron hadn't even taken tree steps outside of Hogwarts before two identically excited twins hunted them down.

"Why hello there Mr Hero, so good to see you!"

Harry easily evaded their attempts at hugging him. "Stop it guys, you know I don't want the part."

"Ha! Did you hear that brother? He says he's not doing it," stated Fred in fake shock.

"Oh don't worry, he will if Tom Riddle has any say in the matter."

"Which he does, by the way," Fred whispered conspiratorial to Harry.

"Or Dumbledore, I swear his eyes were twinkling when he looked at you."

"Or Lucius, he's a bit torn over killing or adopting you at the moment, but he'll get over it eventually."

George nodded seriously. "Hell I think even Snape was gaping back there!"

"He will deny it though, but we have seen the naked truth!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at their dramatics. "He was probably watching Tom, not me. My technique is atrocious in comparison."

"Nope, it was most certainly you," they grinned.

"See, they were never able to use Riddle in their previous end of year performances."

"Because all lead roles require a good deal of duets," explained Fred.

"And Riddle can't dance with a partner. Or a group for that matter," continued his brother.

"Because he sucks everyone's attention in like a giant black hole."

They sighed dramatically. "And the result is what we saw in act 4 today."

"A disaster, even though both dancers were very skilled."

"And that is where our Mr Hero comes in," George threw his arm over Harry's shoulder.

"We don't know how you did it."

"Or what exactly it was you did."

"But that was _awesome_!"

They began jumping up and down in excitement, earning strange looks from the surrounding people who swarmed out of the school.

"I've still got goosebumps!" Fred confessed.

"Some dancers backstage looked ready to pass out," mused George dreamily.

"I think some _did_."

George shook his head, grinning at him. "Yeah you're not getting out of this one Harry."

"Bu-…You said I could decline!" protested Harry.

Fred waved his protest away. "That was before you danced with Tom Riddle."

"And before he set his eyes on you."

"Literally."

"I think he's still watching," George whispered loudly while looking wildly around him.

"Ugh stop it, you're creeping me out," interrupted Ron. "I thought he would never let you go, he looked so-…Hey are you alright?"

Ron's eyes had landed on Harry's wrist. Tom had grabbed him so hard that a dark shape of his hand began to form on Harry's pale skin.

"It's nothing. Just a bruise." Harry quickly hid the dark shape under his sleeve.

Ron looked outraged. "That bastard!"

"We couldn't really see from behind the stage, we just thought it was hilarious," frowned the twins.

"He's evil."

"He thinks he owns the world," muttered Fred darkly.

" _And_ the people on it!"

"I'm fine," Harry reassured them. "It may sound crazy but I think he was still Voldemort in that moment."

The twins ominously shook their heads. "You don't understand Harry."

"He _is_ Voldemort. Always."

.

* * *

.

Just two days later, Harry was called back to Hogwarts. Since he didn't own a phone, Charlie, also a senior student, had been sent to deliver the message. Apparently everyone at the school had been quite confused as to why he hadn't left a phone number and had cried tears of joy when they learnt that he was friends with the Weasleys. At least that's what Charlie told him.

Harry wanted to send Charlie back with the message that he was honoured Hogwarts was still considering him for the role, but that he had no intention of dancing the part.

Charlie had just laughed and refused to go, because 'he would not be the one to explain _that_ to the judges'.

So Harry once again stood in front of Hogwarts' massive entrance, a distinctive uneasy feeling in his gut. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He had been convinced Hogwarts would just choose one of his own students for the part. Taking an unknown dancer was just too risky for such a prestigious school.

His uneasiness grew when the secretary led him into the big auditorium and it was empty. Call-backs were supposed to include several people, a way for the judges to minimize their options, not eradicate them.

The judges sat once again at one side of the stage and Harry warily approached them. At least Tom Riddle was nowhere to be seen. He didn't fancy another bruise.

"Ah, Mr Potter, Harry… May I call you Harry?" Dumbledore smiled warmly at him.

"Err, sure…sir." Harry had no idea what to call the headmaster. Or any of those people. How did one address a celebrity properly? He had never thought about that. He had never thought he would be in a situation where he would have to think about that.

"Excellent, my boy, excellent. Well then Harry, I believe, ah, Mr Snape has a few questions for you."

Snape shot the headmaster a dark look before turning to Harry. "I have indeed."

"Okay," answered Harry, "Sure, but you should know tha-"

"Where were you trained?" the man interrupted, looking down at a stack of papers.

"Err, nowhere in particular. Bu-"

"Excuse me?"

Harry gave up on telling them he didn't want the part. "I didn't attend any schools, if that's what you mean."

There was a shocked silence as the judges digested this.

"Then where, pray tell, did you learn the steps for 'A Prophecy'?" asked Snape suspiciously.

"I have the DVD," he shrugged.

"But…but, when did you start dancing?" McGonagall asked baffled.

"When I was about 14."

"14?!" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy, "Good god, most start a decade before that and aren't half as good."

He seemed both amazed and outraged at that.

"That is the nature of talent. It makes a joke out of effort and time," sneered Snape.

"So you _do_ think he is talented!" proclaimed Dumbledore, and Harry could tell it was an argument that belonged to another long discussion.

Snape's expression grew sour. "I think," he turned to Harry, "that his technique is atrocious."

"Severus!" chastised McGonagall harshly.

Everyone seemed aghast by Snape's statement, which was sweet really, but Harry could understand where the man was coming from.

"Don't listen to him my boy, he's a perfectionist. No one can meet his expectations," Dumbledore assured him kindly.

"It's fine really, I've been trying to tell you that-"

"Don't make it sound as if his inadequate, excuse me, _non-existent_ training is my fault Albus," scowled Snape.

"We've got months Severus! You can train him."

"He's not a boy Albus, he's 17!"

"With a lot of talent," interjected McGonagall. "Technique isn't everything my dear colleague, a dancer needs to captivate his audience and don't you tell me what we saw wasn't captivating!"

Snape turned to the former ballerina. "Even if I gave him private lessons, in addition to the demanding rehearsals I doubt he could cope with it. Look at him! He's practically all bones and no muscles!"

"General classes are in the morning and rehearsals in the afternoon, if he takes a break you can still train him in the late evening!"

"Uhm, sorry but I-…" Harry tried again

"Oh of course," Snape spat, "I enjoy spending my evenings with completely untrained dancers when there are dozens of our own students who could do it without any extra effort."

"Have you watched his audition Severus? No one dances like that! This is Tom Riddle we are talking about and, forgive me Mr Malfoy, but not even Draco has enough presence yet to hold his ground."

Lucius seemed to consider this. "I don't have any intention to let my son dance a part that will make him look like a fool."

"If we can't get the Hero right then everyone will look like fool Lucius, ourselves included," Snape reminded him gloomily.

They all talked at the same time as the discussion grew more heated, ignoring Harry completely.

Normally he would take no offence in being ignored, after all, why should someone like them even know he existed? But they _had_ called him here, and he sure hoped it wasn't just to waste his time.

He cleared his throat politely to get their attention, but when none of them reacted he realized he had to use more drastic measures.

"Excuse me!" he roared, his voice intensified by the architecture of the auditorium.

Everyone stopped talking abruptly to look at him, only realizing now that he was still there.

"What I was trying to tell you since the beginning, is that I have no intention to participate in your end of year performance. I didn't want the role to begin with. May I go home now? I need to be at work in an hour."

They stared at him in various nuances of confusion. McGonagall's pen clattered unnoticed to the floor.

"Well that just won't do," Dumbledore said after a while, "I already cleared your scholarship with our finance minister!"

"I'm sorry bu-…Wait, what? Why would you give me a scholarship as well?" asked Harry perplexed.

"This is Hogwarts' end of year performance. We need Hogwarts students to dance it."

"You would have enrolled me in your school just so I could dance in your ballet?"

"Of course! Does that mean you're interested now?" Dumbledore asked hopefully.

"No!" objected Harry alarmed. "If I had the time to attend Hogwarts I would have auditioned years ago."

McGonagall perked up curiously. "Time?"

"I have to work. I don't have any money otherwise."

"You do understand the word scholarship?" Snape sneered at him.

"I understand it covers the tuition fee, not my living expenses," Harry shot back, getting more and more exasperated. "Or do you expect me to live on the streets and starve for the rest of the year?"

"Hogwarts does have dorms my boy, and they cost practically nothing," contemplated Dumbledore.

"I don't have _'practically'_ nothing," grumbled Harry, "I have _nothing_ nothing."

"Then this could be your big chance Harry! Even with no previous training, if you dance like you did on your audition then a contract-"

"I don't want to be a professional dancer," Harry said firmly.

It was clearly the wrong thing to say, judging from Snape's expression. "And he has no ambition at all. This is getting ridiculous."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "And there is really no way I could convince you Harry? It may sound like an awful lot of work but trust me, you would be perfect for the part."

Harry forced a polite smile on his lips. After all, it was still an honour that Hogwarts' headmaster would think so highly of him. Even though he was an awful listener. "Look, I love to dance and 'A Prophecy' is my favourite piece, but I genuinely _can't_."

Dumbledore frowned concerned. "Tom will be devastated."

"Just because he has the best technique in the school doesn't mean he owns it," scowled Snape.

"Sometimes I wonder about that…" Dumbledore mused. "Well, if that is your final word Harry, then you are free to go of course. We can hardly force you."

Harry thanked them respectfully and left the auditorium, the resumed discussion still audible through the closed door.

He checked the time and realized he would have to hurry or he would be late for work. Too bad, he had wanted to say hello to the twins since he was already here, but he couldn't risk to lose his job.

5 hours sitting still behind a counter, then a night shift as a cleaner in an office. Yay.

.

* * *

.

When Harry came home the next day, after an extra shift in the café he had squeezed in, he couldn't decide whether he would first collapse from exhaustion or starve.

His stomach was in strong favour of the later, so Harry opted to heat up the leftovers from his last meal. He had just turned on his small stove when someone knocked on his door.

It was a bit strange, because Harry only ever got visits from the Weasley brothers and they usually already called him before he even opened the door. Whoever stood in front of his room now kept silent.

With a frown, Harry opened the door. A torrent of words met him.

"A scholarship, living in the dorms for free, a sum covering your meals and an additional sum equal to however much you're earning right now."

Dressed in casual street clothes, it took Harry a moment to recognise Hogwarts top student.

"Err, hi?" greeted Harry befuddled.

"Tom Riddle," the boy swiftly offered Harry his hand, who shook it confused. "So what's your answer?"

Harry blinked at him a few times, trying to will his exhausted brain to come up with an explanation as to why on earth Hogwarts star pupil stood in front of his room, then proceeded to shut the door in said pupil's face.

Tom was faster, sticking his foot between door and frame. "I've come all the way from the school, the least you could do is offer me tea."

Harry sighed as his stomach gave another loud rumble. "Fine. Tea it is. Don't expect anything else though."

He opened his door to let Tom in. His unexpected visitor confidently strode past him and inspected the room.

There wasn't much to see. The room was bedroom and kitchen all in one, the only door other than the entrance led to a tiny bathroom. The only thing Harry owned besides the most basic furniture was an old TV.

Harry went back to the stove to look after his dinner. "Well, sit then," he offered.

"There is only one chair," Tom pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "I live alone. Not many visitors you understand."

"Ah." Tom gracefully sat down on his old wooden chair, still looking around him, taking in Harry's shabby home.

They remained silent while Harry heated up his dinner and boiled Tom's water.

"So," Harry began awkwardly, setting the finished tea in front of Tom, "How did you find me?"

Tom took a careful sip of the hot brew. "I saw you talking to a redhead at your auditions, so I guessed you knew the Weasleys. I asked the twins."

"And they told you?"

Tom's eyebrows rose curiously. "Why wouldn't they?"

Common decency. But Harry should have known better with the twins. He could just imagine their delighted faces when Tom Riddle asked for the address of Harry Potter. They had probably drawn him a detailed map.

"I did get a call-back from Hogwarts you know," Harry told him, as he sat on his bed and began to eat.

"I heard."

"I told them I didn't want the role."

Tom didn't even bat an eyelash. "I heard."

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, slightly annoyed.

"Because I don't accept it."

"Ah," said Harry, not really sure what to make of that.

"You refused because of money problems correct? Well I took care of that. Now you don't have any reason to refuse." Tom took another sip of his tea, completely serene.

"What..? Hold on, what do you mean you 'took care of it'?" he asked alarmed.

"The school is willing to cover your tuition, your living expenses and provide you with a place in the dorms for free. At least until the end of the year."

Harry was so stunned he momentarily forgot to eat. "That's a lot of money, why would they offer me all that?"

"Because I told them I won't dance otherwise."

"What?!" he exclaimed shocked. "Are you crazy?! You have the chance to dance Voldemort, you'll be famous instantly!"

"I can't dance Voldemort without a Hero."

"There _will_ be a Hero, I heard Hogwarts has more than enough dancers who could do it."

Tom almost seemed to be pouting. "Well it's not the right one. They're boring. If I'm bored while dancing I get distracted, if I get distracted I make mistakes. I have no desire to follow in Grindelwald's footsteps."

Gellert Grindelwald had been the second dancer after Salazar Slytherin to attempt Voldemort's part. The world had counted the days until the opening night, his company was already celebrating him as a star.

But Grindelwald fell during his first performance. It wasn't even at a tricky part, just a relatively simple choreography with the Headmaster. Grindelwald had lost his balance and fell. He fled in shame from the stage and no one had heard of him since. Some even said he committed suicide.

"I saw you dance with another contestant. You were brilliant." Harry wasn't lying, he had never seen someone _move_ like that.

"Brilliant maybe," said Tom offhandedly. "But not perfect."

"You are dancing _Voldemort._ Companies will kill to have you."

"I don't care. I'll be famous if I want to be famous. Right now I want to tell the story of 'A Prophecy' and I can't do that with anyone but you," Tom insisted resolutely.

Harry decided to change his strategy. "Look, I'm not sure what happened at the audition, that's not how I normally-…I don't even know if I can do that again."

"Then I will _make_ you."

Something about his statement seemed terribly wrong to Harry. Tom's whole demeanour had suddenly changed, emitting a horribly threatening aura.

Harry gulped involuntarily. "So what, you expect me to give up my life just so you're happy?"

"What life?" asked Tom coldly, throwing the small room a pointed look.

Harry gritted his teeth in fury. How dare he judged him like that! Harry had worked his ass off to be where he was now. "You have no idea-.."

"I do," interrupted Tom calmly. "You didn't think you were the only orphan on this planet, did you?"

Harry forced himself to exhale. "Then I congratulate you for living your dream, but it isn't mine."

Tom stood up from his chair and slowly advanced towards Harry. "You know what I think? I think you're just telling yourself you don't want it because you always knew you wouldn't be able to do it without money. I think you never even tried because you were too afraid to fail. I think you are too scared to try it because you would realize how much you want it."

He came to a stop right in front of where Harry was sitting cross-legged on his bed. "There are some things you can't hide while dancing Harry Potter, and back then your whole body was craving it."

Harry stared up at him, his face a blank mask. Then he calmly took another bite of his meal. "I'm not a little kid you can manipulate with insults and dares."

Their eyes stayed locked for a while, until Tom huffed irritated and straightened.

"Hmm. I was convinced that would work."

"Your tea is finished. Get out," ordered Harry brusquely.

"Fine. I'll just tell everyone I won't dance. The school won't be able to do 'A Prophecy', maybe they won't be able to do an end of year performance at all. Your friends won't be able to dance either. Such a shame, they were the perfect cast for the Twins after all."

"You…you wouldn't…you can't be serious!" stammered Harry.

"And it will be all your fault."

Anger boiled up in him. "You bastard, that's blackmail!"

Tom shrugged unaffected. "Not really. I'm just enforcing your guilt. It only works on certain people with a special kind of conscience. It wouldn't work on me, but you truly are the Hero aren't you?"

His pleased expression didn't waver when he met Harry's icy stare.

"I don't believe you. There's no way you would just let such a big chance slip by." Harry tried to put as much conviction in it as possible, but in truth he couldn't predict Tom's actions at all. There was something strangely erratic about the composed boy.

Tom only smirked indulgently as he opened Harry's door.

"Classes start at 9. Come by when you're ready."


	3. When Resistance becomes Resilience

Harry looked up at Hogwarts' impressive main building. With its stony facade, its huge wooden entrance door and its towers, it looked more than a castle that belonged somewhere in the countryside, not in the middle of London.

He let out a long, weary sigh. "Why am I here?"

"Because we've been begging you for a week now..?" answered Fred unapologetically.

His twin nodded in agreement. "To the point where you can't sleep?"

"Or eat?" added Fred innocently.

Harry glanced at them annoyed. They sure had been bugging him in every free second. Though it wasn't their fault. It was Tom's.

Hogwarts' top student had refused to dance in their end of year performance. No explanation offered. The prestigious school was panicking, as it was too late to change the production.

Harry had been convinced that Tom was bluffing. The talented dancer clearly had his eyes set on a dazzling career. Finishing his education by playing Voldemort would catapult him into stardom.

But the days passed and Tom made no inclination to dance. Only the twins knew why. So they had naturally taken it upon themselves to get Harry to dance the Hero. Harry had managed to fend them off for over a week. Now they were threatening him to reveal to the headmaster why Tom didn't want to dance.

Tom had already coerced them into sponsoring Harry, so he was convinced the headmaster must have had an idea. But really, thinking that a student would refuse a part in the performance simply because the cast wasn't to their liking was crazy.

However, if the twins would affirm their suspicion, who knew how far the school was willing to go to get Harry on board? He didn't plan to find out.

Besides, no matter how much he tried to deny Tom's words, the boy had been right. Harry did feel guilty for this mess, even though he _knew_ it wasn't his fault. But if he didn't dance, then neither would his friends.

"I'll hate you for this, you know that right?"

"Until the end of time," agreed George.

"And further, once you have your first class with Snape."

Harry took a deep breath, gathering his resolve. "Alright then. Any idea what level I should be in?"

His technique was probably worse than those in the first division, but overall he wouldn't profit from their lessons. He was technically only here to dance in the production, which was predominantly done by the seventh division. But Tom would be in that class and there was no way Harry would go there willingly. He had a feeling they shouldn't be around each other 24/7.

"Age-wise I'd fit in most with the fifth division, right?" he asked the twins.

The divisions represented the different age groups only roughly. The levels reflected how accomplished you were as a dancer, not necessarily how old you were. So the different classes consisted of dancers that were only approximately the same age.

When you tried to get into Hogwarts, they could technically assign you to any division. Though it was easier if you started young and got into the first or second division.

There were always some exceptions that got into Hogwarts when they were older, mostly due to circumstances in their childhood. Not everyone knew he was going to be a ballet dancer at the age of eleven after all. The twins for example had auditioned last year and started directly in the fifth division.

"True, but they only ever cast dancers from sixth upwards. It would be odd if you're below that."

"Yes we wouldn't want to make this any weirder than it already is," grinned George.

Harry shrugged. "Then I'll just come with you into sixth. At least that way I'll know someone."

"Sure you don't want to try seventh?"

"They work almost exclusively on their parts of the performance during classes," Fred explained.

Harry shook his head. "The choreography isn't my problem. I need some basic technique."

The twins grinned at each other. "Basic he says!"

"While talking about the second highest division in Britain's best dancing school!"

"I-I didn't mean-…" stuttered Harry.

Fred waved him off. "Nah, we like your attitude."

George clapped his hands eagerly. "Come on then! Let's bring the happy news."

"News?" Harry frowned.

"Hogwarts will get its end of year performance after all! This might even bring Snape to tears!"

All three laughed at the absurd image.

They entered Hogwarts and the twins led the way to the boy's sixth division's first lesson this morning. It was almost nine o'clock and the students hurried to get to their rooms in time. Because of the haste, few noticed Harry as he changed with them, even though his dancewear was clearly hand-me-downs and didn't even come close to Hogwarts dress code.

They might never see Snape in tears, but Filius Flitwick certainly looked close when he saw who entered his class. "Mr Potter, I am so relieved to see you!"

The man was only as tall as Harry, which made him very short for a professional ballet dancer. Still, his position at Hogwarts was proof enough that he had a successful career in his time.

Flitwick gave him a grateful smile before he turned to the twins, his expression faltering a bit. "Please tell me he's really here and not just one of my wishful hallucinations."

"Our saviour in flesh and blood," they answered simultaneously.

"Excellent! Everyone, start your warm-up, I'll be back in a few minutes. I have to tell Albus at once!"

He quickly left the studio, drawing curious looks from the other students. Once he had disappeared, their curiosity immediately fell on Harry.

The twins had warned him that there were a whole bunch of rumours floating around since his audition. Most of the students had never seen him, as they hadn't bothered to go watch the auditions. There were apparently some pretty messed up stories being spun around his person, but no one really seemed to believe them.

Luckily Harry only had to watch out for the senior students. Since ballet was a fierce competition, students could get jealous easily. However, Hogwarts normally only cast dancers from the seventh division for their end of year performance, rarely some of the sixth but that was it. As everyone had adjusted to that, the lower levels didn't necessarily feel as if Harry had stolen one of their spots.

The seniors who were about to graduate were a completely different story. It was bad enough that Hogwarts had to bring in an unknown boy for the first time ever, even worse that he played the main role. It was a major slap in their faces.

"See? You're a hero already!" exclaimed Fred merrily and they pushed him to a free spot on the barre.

"Why do I feel so miserable about this whole thing?" Harry wondered aloud while he began to imitate the twins' stretching exercises.

"Come on Harry, it's the _Hero_!" They laughed. "Being miserable is part of his character!"

"Oh that is _so_ not true!" exclaimed Harry offended.

"Yes it is! Bad stuff keeps happening to him," George pointed out.

"Not to mention a psychopath is stalking him since he was a baby," Fred added.

Harry fixed them with an accusing glare. "You two would know a great deal about stalking I reckon."

George stroke a solemn pose, with one hand over his heart. "We're aspiring to be perfect in everything we do."

"We're role models!" Fred assured him.

Flitwick came back in that very moment and was understandably shocked at Fred's last sentence. "Mr Weasly, please don't use my class to spread rumours even the most desperate gossip monger wouldn't believe."

The whole class laughed and the twins' faces were split by two equal grins.

Flitwick clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Now let's get this started boys! First position!"

"Who would have thought?" murmured Fred, who stood right behind Harry at the barre.

"They always start with that, how boring," complained George.

"Someone needs to break these chains!"

"I almost envy you Harry, this is basically the first time you had to endure this torture."

"You spent the last week assuring me how great the school was!" accused Harry, but couldn't hold back his smile. They would have probably said anything to make him agree.

Flitwick mostly made them do repetitive exercises and most of the time they spent at the barre while he walked around and corrected them individually. Since Harry wasn't used to hold certain positions for a prolonged period of time, his muscles soon started to ache. He ignored it, as he was too excited to be in his first real ballet class.

Flitwick corrected his posture quite a few times, but also exclaimed his admiration at Harry's turnout and extensions. All in all, Harry's first morning in Hogwarts went better than expected _._

He hadn't expected to actually learn so many things. Sure he knew his technique wasn't the best, but since he never even considered a dancing career, he hadn't much cared. Now he realized that even with little corrections from a skilled teacher, movements suddenly became possible that he hadn't even known about. Most students trained here to become a professional, but even if Harry didn't want the same thing, the teaching would still enrich his dancing and that felt incredible.

Still, he loved to dance. To move. To spin and jump, lost in the music. All these repetitive exercises Hogwarts made his students do bored him, no matter how useful they were. How anyone could survive several years of this was a mystery to him. But he would only be here for the rest of the school year, a few months. He assumed he could hold on until then. Besides, he was dancing 'A Prophecy'. He would never get that chance again.

By the time lunchbreak arrived he was pleasantly exhausted and chatted eagerly with the twins. They filled him in on all the teachers they had, as this morning had been exclusively Flitwick.

Which teachers you had depended heavily on which division you were in. Although there were some teachers that taught all the levels, most stayed specific for one or two divisions and the higher levels got the best ones. Lucius Malfoy for example only taught from the fifth upwards, while Snape was involved in every level, but most of his time was spent on the seventh division.

It became soon clear that McGonagall had been the twins' favourite teacher by far. But she only taught boy's classes until the fifth division. After that they had male teachers only. They deemed Malfoy too artsy, Flitwick too dramatic and Snape too snape-ish. Apparently he could make every student below fourth level cry with a single look.

Even without having been in one of his classes, Harry believed them on the spot. It also just so happened that Snape was the main instructor for the end of year performance and would be present for almost ever rehearsal, which took place every afternoon. Everyone that wasn't in the production would have normal classes.

"I'm not sure I'll survive this," Harry worried, thinking about all the time Snape would have to make him feel miserable.

"Your death will be on our conscience."

"What conscience?" Fred asked his brother in mock horror.

"Very reassuring, thanks guys," laughed Harry. "Now if you would excuse me, I have to talk to the headmaster. I won't quit my jobs before I have some kind of official promise that I won't starve during the next months."

He had taken a rare free day from his jobs today to be here, but he couldn't bring himself to just quit everything. It would mean he'd get kicked out of his apartment by the end of the month if Hogwarts didn't agree with Tom's demands.

And since he still couldn't quite believe Tom held that much sway over the school, he wouldn't take his word for it.

"Seventh floor, directly by the Gargoyles. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Harry repeated and waved them goodbye.

While walking up the stairs, he admired the atmosphere that resided in the school. Everywhere you looked, you were engulfed by ballet. Through open doors you caught glimpses of classes or a single student that practiced on his own. Girls prepared their pointe shoes in the hallways, boys massaged their legs, younger kids peered into the classes of the higher divisions, admiring the older students.

Everyone was chatting amiably with each other, yet there was also a certain pressure in the air. These kids had sacrificed a normal adolescence for their dream and every day they were pushed to their limits. The sheer dedication and concentration everyone focused towards dancing was amazing.

He found the two Gargoyles and knocked on the door between them, to talk to the man that coordinated this buzzing dream factory.

Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly at him as he entered. "Ah Harry! Our hero in more ways than one."

"I am truly sorry if I've caused you any trouble," Harry said in earnest.

"Nonsense my boy, you reap what you saw. I decided to hold open auditions and I do not regret it."

"Thank you sir. It's just…Tom Riddle told me a few quite…unbelievable things."

"Ah yes. The boy can be surprisingly impulsive. And convincing." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I'm really sorry about that…I hope you know that I didn't put him up to this."

"Of course not Harry. You made your point perfectly clear in the interview. Don't worry, even before Tom came to us we were already thinking about…alternative ways…to help your situation."

Harry's eyebrows rose in sceptical surprise. "So the school is really willing to pay for…ah, well, everything? It just seems like way too much wasted money for someone like me."

"Nonsense! Although I guess you have the right to know that it isn't exactly the school that will cover your living expenses. Hogwarts will offer you a scholarship, but the rest is…Just think of it as a private sponsor."

Harry stared at him speechless. This was the first time he had heard anything about that and he wasn't sure if he liked it. "Sponsor? Who would sponsor an untrained dancer?"

"Someone who saw you dance and was impressed."

So it had to be someone who was at the auditions. And who had a lot of money. Enough to provide an orphan with a comfortable lifestyle, thinking nothing of it.

"I'm really not comfortable with someone paying for my life," Harry said tentatively, hoping he wouldn't come across as rude.

"Yes I had an inkling. It says much about your character Harry, but you needn't worry. After all we are practically forcing you to participate in our production. Think of it as a job, nothing more."

Harry hesitated some more, not sure what to make of that. "May I know…my sponsor?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "If it will truly make you feel better Harry… It is Lucius Malfoy. The Malfoys have been patrons of the arts for ages, you really don't need to feel strange about it. And it's not like he wants to keep his patronage a secret…He just happens to have a son in this school, and with you youngsters things can get a little heated…"

"Oh. No, I understand. I won't tell anybody, no problem," Harry assured him quickly. "Is there a way I can repay Mr Malfoy..?"

"Dancing for us despite your initial reluctance is more than enough repayment Harry."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. If he had never danced at the audition, the headmaster would have a whole cast of excellent dancers. Instead Hogwarts would have to present him in their famous end of year performance, because of Tom's strange whim.

"Mr Dumbledore, I…I honestly don't know if I can-…"

Dumbledore interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "You will be brilliant my boy, I can feel it."

Harry allowed a shy smile. "Thank you sir. It's an honour to be here."

"Now then!" Dumbledore shuffled around his office before finding something and handing it to Harry. "Here is your key for your room in the dorms. It's the building right next to Hogwarts. I'm afraid we are rather full at the moment, so I can't guarantee a single room."

Harry stuffed the key in his bag. "That's okay. I'm fine with sharing one." Especially since he could live there for free. It seemed like wishful thinking.

"As for rehearsals. I'm assuming you already know they will take place every afternoon, weekends included?"

Harry nodded.

"Good, good. Now we weren't really prepared for your arrival, so we weren't sure whether or not we would actually manage to perform 'A Prophecy'. It's a bit on short notice, so rehearsals for this afternoon are cancelled. We will inform the students that we can go ahead with practice and will start tomorrow."

"Okay. So, I'll have normal classes this afternoon?"

"Not quite. Since we are already behind schedule, Severus agreed to start rehearsing a scene from act 1 in 213. It will only include two other students, so we managed to get a hold of them. Actually you better get going, it will start in ten minutes."

Harry thanked him once more and excused himself.

He walked all the way down to the second floor and searched for room 213. It turned out to be one of the many smaller studios that were mostly used for the students own practice or private lessons.

Like all the other rooms, this one had a huge mirror covering the entire front wall, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the tall mirror that stood in the middle of the room. Another student stood in front of it, looking into it pensively. His eyes locked with him in the mirror and he startled slightly.

"Oh, h-hi!" The student shifted nervously when he saw him, but smiled shyly. "You m-must b-be the Hero! M-my name is Quirinus Quirrell, b-but it's quite a mouthful, so most just c-call me 'Quir'."

"Hi, I'm Harry, nice to meet you Quir."

He peered at the tall mirror. "Soo… That would make you the Two-faced Teacher?"

"O-oh, yes. It will j-just be us and T-tom in this scene."

"Last scene from act 1?" Harry guessed.

"And here I was prepared to re-tell the whole story first, but it appears as if Mr Potter is already well acquainted with it."

The door behind them had opened once more, as Severus Snape entered the room with a sneer. Tom followed just behind him.

"Harry! So glad you could make it," the older boy smirked pleased.

Harry's eyes narrowed annoyed. They both knew Harry had been all but blackmailed into participating, but he still wouldn't have expected him to rub it in so obviously. It was as if Tom was happier about the fact that he was able to force Harry, not that the performance could take place now.

Not knowing how to deal with the top student, Harry ignored him and turned to Snape instead. "I know the story, sir. Though I wouldn't mind listening to your version."

Snape's sneered at him. "Don't worry Mr Potter, my version will be the only thing you know once we're through. And as I am stuck with you, you better give me your best."

"I'll try sir." He meant it. He wasn't here to play Tom's victim, he was here for his friends. And if he was already in it, he'd try to be the best damn Hero the world would ever see.

He also looked forward to kill Tom in the last act. Figuratively of course.

"We all appreciate your efforts," Snape said sarcastically. "Now then, the final scene of act 1. Remember, it is the first time we will actually _see_ Lord Voldemort. It marks the end of the exposition, making it one of the most crucial scenes in the whole play. And you will _not_ screw this up."

He was looking directly at Harry as he said the last part. Wow that man really didn't like him. Scary.

"But dancing isn't just about knowing the steps or technique – I saw that eyebrow Mr Potter! What I meant was that it is not enough to go through the motions, no matter how well executed they are. You have to _use_ them to tell the story you want to be told. This requires discipline, diligence and perfect _control_."

He was fixing Harry again with his onyx eyes, and Harry had to hold himself back not to roll his own.

"Despite Mr Potter's _abundan_ t knowledge of the plot, I'll talk you through the first round. Step by step. Then you will dance it in the actual tempo, and then we will start correcting your countless mistakes. I trust you all know the basic choreography by now?"

They all nodded.

Snape ushered them into the right starting position. Quir in front of the mirror, Tom behind it, hidden from view for the time being, and Harry further away by the door.

"Now remember Mr Potter, you expected the Potion's Master to be here. You are confused why your other teacher is here, but too naïve to suspect him yet. You are also too reckless to even think of running away."

Harry began to suspect Snape didn't just hate him, he also didn't think much of the Hero. Lovely combination.

Snape started the playback of the music and Harry approached Quir.

Quir played nice at first, his movements slow and unassuming. But his mask began to crumble more and more as he evaded the Hero's inquiries, his dance becoming more hectic and abrupt. He was the Two-faced Teacher after all. The face he showed to the audience until then was not his real one.

Harry could immediately see why they cast Quir for the role. Like all the senior students he was a brilliant dancer, but even more amazing was his ability to change his style completely.

As he slowly revealed his true self, he rapidly switched back and forth between two very different characters, like a flickering candle. Harry made a mental note to ask him for advice later on, it might come in handy for his possession scene.

He couldn't think after that, as Quir started to lose himself completely, and Harry could see glimpses of Tom behind him. Still Lord Voldemort wasn't visible yet, dancing behind the Two-faced Teacher, adapting to his every move like a shadow, yet controlling him at the same time.

"Now the shove Mr Quirrell- Do try to make that fall look convincing Potter."

As Harry picked himself up from the ground, Quir and Tom switched, revealing his true face.

Tom approached him, eyes completely devoid of any mercy, freezing Harry momentarily.

"No! Mr Riddle, Voldemort is cold and ruthless. This boy made him suffer and he'd gladly snap his neck, but it's also nothing more than a schoolboy. You don't want to frighten him, you want him on your side. No one can resist your charms, show him what he could be, what he could have."

Tom frowned a bit, then changed tactics. His threatening aura was gone, instead he pulled Harry with him, gripping him firmly but not violently.

"He's just a little, naïve boy. Lure him, seduce him to your world."

And so Tom did. Controlling his movements, not forceful like on the auditions, but subtle, trying to manipulate him without him noticing. He blocked a jump here, a step there, steering him back to the mirror.

Harry couldn't suppress a smile. This whole situation felt so similar to the one a week ago, when Tom tried to lure him into accepting the role. A weird mixture of promises and threats.

"Something funny Potter? He promises you your parents, it's everything you ever wanted. You know he's a liar but you desperately want to believe him."

Harry went along with it for a while, seemingly following Voldemort's directions, as if distracted by the other dancer. Then he tried to turn away. Tom wouldn't let him, refusing to see him leave, becoming more vicious in his attempts to pull him with him.

As he revealed his true intentions, Harry started to counter his force with his own and the two dancers clashed in a whirl of skilled spins. Harry wanted nothing more than push Tom back a bit, but this was only act 1 and he grudgingly had to allow Tom to dominate.

He could see Tom's eyes flash with wicked mirth as he realized Harry was powerless to do anything, their roles playing out like they were supposed to. Harry clenched his fists in defiance, trying to will himself into submission, but only succeeding partially.

His dancing suffered from his mental distress, his movements becoming less fluid and more reluctant, while Tom practically toyed with him.

Snape's angry clapping interrupted them when Harry refused to take another step back. "Mr Potter the time to fight will come, but now you are young and weak. This is the first time you ever confronted the killer of your parents, you are scared. Act like it!"

So Harry gritted his teeth and stepped back, allowing Tom to push him down.

"My, I could get used to that," the dancer whispered, while they wrestled in a decidedly uncoordinated manner that probably made Snape sick.

"I'll destroy you in act 7," Harry hissed back, trying not to move his lips.

Tom smirked above him. "We shall see."

And then Harry struck back, surprising Tom, as he did so slightly earlier than the music suggested. He was so thrilled to be winning that he almost didn't see Voldemort's last attack coming. As Voldemort fled the scene, Harry's head thumped on the ground, hitting it harder than he had planned. A sharp pain shot through his skull and Harry cursed himself for not paying more attention.

Snape stopped the music, a deep scowl on his face. "I want to see everything from the beginning, no interruptions this time. We start to work on corrections after that and we won't stop working on them until the very second you walk out onto the stage."

Snape held true to his words, keeping them there the whole afternoon with only short drinking pauses. Harry had half expected him to only correct him, but Snape could even find fault in Tom's dancing.

Though he certainly didn't bother hiding his displeasure from Harry. "Hold your head straight, Potter! Stop clenching your fists, lower your shoulder, extend your feet, watch that turnout, stop looking down, don't glare like that, turn faster here…"

And so on. The stream of corrections seemed endless.

Harry tried his best to accommodate all of Snape's demands, but found it almost impossible. When he danced, his head cleared out and he forgot most of the things he was supposed to change. Tom on the other hand integrated everything seamlessly into his dancing, making Harry appear even more incompetent.

By the time Snape finally released them, the pleasant exhaustion from the morning had given way to a mixture of pain and utter fatigue.

When the three students packed their things, Snape loomed over him. "Potter you are in sixth division, yes?

"Yes sir," Harry nodded tiredly.

"Not anymore. I want you two," he pointed to Harry and Tom, "in my seventh grade class. You have to get used to dance with each other."

Harry groaned silently and turned to Tom, who winked at him.

"Oh and Mr Potter," Snape continued, "I want you back in here by eight this evening. We need to do your physical assessment."

"Like a health check?"

"More like a measure of your potential. New students are usually assessed before we even let them audition, but as your case is _special_ , we shall do it today."

Snape left the room, followed by Quir who waved him a quick goodbye, saying something about an appointment.

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" Tom asked pleasantly once they were alone.

Harry stepped up to him, pointing furiously. "You know damn well that I didn't want the role! Why would you refuse to dance?! They almost had to cancel the whole production!"

"I'm very good at reading people Harry. I knew you'd swoop in like the good little Hero you are."

"Oh? Well what can you read now?!" Harry gestured to his own pissed off expression.

"Is that a trick question?"

Harry let out an annoyed huff. "You know what, whatever. You were right, I couldn't just let my friends down because I auditioned for a role I never wanted. Congratulations Tom, you got what you wanted. Doesn't mean we have to like each other. I'll come to rehearsals, we dance, we part. Simple."

Tom chuckled amused. "Have you _seen_ some of the stuff we'll have to do together? If you don't trust me you'll break your neck."

Unfortunately he was right. It was probably another reason why 'A Prophecy' such a difficult piece. You had to find two principals who trusted each other unconditionally, yet convinced the audience that they were destined arch nemeses intent on killing each other.

"I'll…deal with that when it's time," murmured Harry tensely.

To be honest, he hadn't even thought about that. Dancing with Tom on his audition had just felt so natural that everything seemed possible. He hadn't quite expected for their personalities to clash so much in real life.

He grabbed his things and headed out of the room.

"Do you need help finding your dorms?" Tom asked after him.

"No," he replied curtly.

He stalked through Hogwarts' corridors and realized it was already six o'clock. He had hoped to transfer his things from his apartment to the dorms this evening, but since he needed to be back in two hours already, he decided against it.

He would just search his room and then see if he could find the twins to grab dinner.

He managed to find the building with Hogwarts' dorms just fine, but was soon lost in the long hallways. One would think it wouldn't be that hard to find the right number, but Harry didn't quite get the hang of the system they used.

The building had a strange layout, with two courtyards that shaped the complex like two circles.

Each floor had two rows of rooms where one or two students lived together. On every second floor there was a bigger common room for everyone to use.

It was by pure chance that he found himself in a corner that had similar numbers to the one that was printed on his key, 733.

He finally found his room and was surprised when he saw that the door stood wide open.

He entered hesitantly, not seeing anyone. "Hello? I'm a new student, I'm supposed to sleep here..?"

"28 minutes, really? You realize I could have gotten you here in about 4?"

Harry whirled around.

There, on one of the beds in the corner sat Tom, with a pillow comfortably propped behind his back and a book in his lap.

He smirked up at Harry. "You must be my new roommate."

 


	4. When Trust and Thrill converge

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.

Tom glanced innocently up from his book. "I live here. Dumbledore asked me if it was okay for me to share a room with a new student that would arrive and I said yes."

"There aren't any new students this late in the school year."

"Yes I did wonder about that," Tom mused.

Harry glared accusingly at the older boy. "You knew it was me."

"It's a nice room!" Tom exclaimed appeasingly. "Top floor, in the corner, with two windows…"

"The _room_ is not my problem," Harry replied exasperated.

Tom had the audacity to chuckle at that. "My, so hostile. How decidedly un-Hero like of you."

Harry didn't even deign to answer and threw his sports bag on the second bed at the opposite end of the room.

"Do you need any ice? There's a machine just a few rooms to the left from here," Tom informed him.

"I don't need anything."

"You're body isn't used to the training here, if you don't take care of yourself you can seriously injure yourself."

"I'm fine," insisted Harry.

"You're limping."

"Am not," Harry denied vehemently. As he took the next step a dull pain pierced his left ankle that he hadn't even noticed before. How the hell had the other known?

"Very good at reading people, remember? Now swallow that monstrous pride of yours and tell me."

Harry gritted his teeth to keep himself from losing his temper. "It's just a sore ankle."

Tom swiftly closed his book and stood up. "I'll get you some ice. As a peace offering."

"You don't-…" Harry began, but Tom had already exited the room.

Irritated and tired, Harry let himself fall onto his bed. He was convinced that fate must hate him. He might have been able to deal with Tom in rehearsals and in classes, but he was sure that if they stayed cooped up like that, they would end up killing each other for real. Prophesied enemies and all that.

Tom came back with a small bag of crushed ice and Harry sat up, removing his shoes.

"Thanks," he said curtly and tried to take the bag, but Tom promptly sat down on the edge of his bed, bag still in hand.

"Left or right?"

"Huh?"

"Your ankle. Does your left or your right one hurt?"

"I can do it on my-…" he broke off when he met Tom's narrowed eyes. "Left," he answered resigned.

Tom rolled up his trousers a bit and placed the bag surprisingly gentle on his ankle.

"Lie down. We should prop it up as well."

Harry’s irritation was slowly replaced by amusement. "You missed you're true calling Tom. You should have been a nurse."

"I am dancing the most difficult ballet role in the world, I believe I've found my true calling. Besides, you have to know how to take care of your body properly. We can't have our Hero get tendinitis."

"And here I thought you're doing this because of your good heart," Harry said drily.

"Does it matter why I'm doing it?"

"People must line up to be your friend."

"People line up to even catch a glimpse of me."

Harry burst out laughing at his genuine haughtiness, causing Tom to cock his head curiously.

"Well I for one have seen more than enough glimpses of you today," Harry told him and tried to sit back up, but Tom wouldn't let him.

"Where do you think you're going? I told you to stay down."

"Snape wants me back soon, I don't think I should take his biting remarks on an empty stomach."

"I have a Sandwich."

Harry snorted incredulously. "And you try to teach me how to take care of my body? I don't think convenience store food is the way to go."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "I made it myself, I wouldn't touch those packaged lumps."

Normally Harry would have refused heatedly, cursed at Tom and stormed out of the room. But really, he was sore and exhausted. The training in the afternoon had worn him more out than he had thought. Besides, he wasn't someone to pass on free food.

So he only sighed resigned when Tom got up and brought him his Sandwich – perfectly formed as well – and contented himself with ignoring the other while chewing on it. But damn that thing was delicious.

"Is there anything you're bad at?"

"Why?" Tom asked, suspicious.

"Just wondering."

Tom went back to his book and Harry silently contemplated what kind of game the older dancer was playing. Tom was suspiciously nice compared to their first meeting. Hell, he was practically mothering him. It didn't seem to suit his character at all. Then again, there was no reason for them to be roommates either, Harry was even certain that Tom wasn't the sharing type of guy. So what was Harry doing here?

He sighed again, a bit louder this time, which caught Tom's attention.

"Can I sit up now?" Harry asked him wryly and took his silent stare as a yes.

He flushed the melted ice down the toilet and threw the bag away, then gathered his things and left without another word. The coming months would be long.

 

* * *

 

 

"You're late."

Harry suppressed what seemed like the hundredth sigh that day and put his bag down near the door before approaching Snape.

"I had trouble finding my way back."

Snape sneered at him over the clipboard he was holding. "I would prefer it if you refrained from wasting my time in the future."

Jeez it was like two minutes past eight!

"Well then, no use in waiting any longer. To the barre Mr Potter, let me see your turnout."

Harry swallowed any rude remarks and dutifully got into first position, knees facing outwards, heels touching, feet evenly turned out.

Snape scowled, then pushed Harry’s feet further back with his own foot, forcing them into a perfect straight line. Then he paused, scribbled something on his clipboard and continued to push his feet back even more.

"Does that hurt?"

"No."

The scowl deepened. "Then why are you standing like this all the time?" Snape asked and imitated Harry’s position, his feet just barely not a straight line. "When you appear to have joint hypermobility?"

Joint what?

"Err…It's more comfortable..?"

Snape looked at him blandly.

"I lose my balance otherwise," Harry protested.

"…It takes a lot to render me speechless Potter, but I think you just might have. So I'm going to ignore everything you just said and assume your feet will be in a perfectly straight line from now on. Arm," he commanded, holding out his hand.

Harry blinked at his bluntness and handed him his free arm. Snape turned it this way and that, bending his elbow into weird positions while almost dislocating his shoulder. He made some more notes.

"Bend over. Further." He pushed his torso closer to his legs and only stopped when Harry gave a moan of protest.

"Hmm. You need to stretch more, 15 minutes each evening. Come back up, slowly."

Harry did and Snape carefully observed how each of his vertebra moved.

"Leg," he demanded curtly and Harry kicked his leg up.

Snape pushed it up at his side until it was almost touching his head. He looked at him sceptically. "Still no pain?"

"Don't sound too disappointed. Sir," remarked Harry drily.

He half expected the man to hit him, but to his surprise Snape's eyes gleamed with dark amusement.

"Careful Potter. I might expect you to hold it there on your own."

"That's impossible."

"I assure you it is not. Remove your shirt."

Harry looked at him doubtfully.

"I need to see your muscles," Snape explained impatiently, glancing up from his notes.

So Harry took his shirt off, feeling goosebumps rising up his arms.

Snape took one look at him before snorting dismissively. "You need more protein. I'll talk to the kitchen."

Harry tried and failed not to feel self-conscious about that.

Snape walked behind him, examining his back. "What is that?"

His fingers traced his old, faint scars, an unpleasant reminder of the cruel nature of both adults and peers. Harry flinched at the contact and sucked in a surprised breath.

Snape immediately removed his hand. "What?" he asked, coming back to his front.

Harry cursed himself for reacting so violently. "I don't take kindly to being touched," he murmured.

Snape gave him that unreadable, scrutinizing look again.

"It's fine," Harry assured him unnerved. "I just flinched okay?"

Snape just continued to hold his eyes, until Harry averted them nervously. He hated how people reacted. Hated to see their helpless pity, their pointless outrage.

He looked back up at Snape's dark eyes. There was no pity in them. Just understanding. Somehow that made swallowing the lump in his throat even harder.

"Do they hinder you?" Snape asked seriously.

"No," Harry answered quickly. "They are way too old for that."

Snape's eyes hardened. "That's what _I_ thought."

Harry looked up surprised. No pity, just understanding. Of course. Snape's general displeasure for humanity must have come from somewhere.

Harry might have ended up like him, if he hadn't met the Weasleys. They had restored his trust and made him open up to other people again. Though talking about his less than happy years was still something he avoided whenever possible. For Snape to admit his own past so easily was surprising and something to admire.

"I'll arrange for a physician to take a good look at them."

"I can't even feel them," Harry protested weakly.

"I couldn't either. Believe me Potter, you do _not_ want to make my mistakes."

Harry frowned in confusion. Severus Snape was a worldwide known, acclaimed dance critic and instructor at Britain's most prestigious dance school. What mistakes could such a man have possibly made?

But, Harry reminded himself, it was also hard to imagine a man like Snape to be in any kind of abusive situation. He seemed absolutely untouchable.

"Any other previous injuries? Broken bones?" Snape inquired.

"I broke two fingers once, but that will hardly be a problem."

"Does it affect your strength?"

Harry shrugged. "Not since they healed."

Snape maneuvered him into several other positions, then finished with measuring Harry’s height and weight.

"The kitchen will compile a personalized eating plan for you, eat everything on the tray. Do stretching exercises before going to bed, focus especially on your legs and torso. Your hypermobile joints give you flexibility, but reduces your stability. We'll have to work on your muscles to compensate. Let's hope the classes will automatically rise your stamina enough without additional excercises. You're seventeen, so it is still possible for you to grow, though you were rather set on not pursuing a professional carrier, so that shouldn't concern you."

Faced with the onslaught of facts and required improvements, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed and confused. "Does that mean I passed?"

"Normally, passing your physical examination doesn't mean anything. We simply observe whether or not a prospective student even has the right anatomy for ballet. The maximum angle in which your hip, knees and feet can turn is not something we can change, nor can we influence the curvature of the spine. If you're movements are too limited for the level of ballet we're teaching here, then an audition would just waste our time," Snape said clinical.

"That's…harsh."

Snape fixed him with another hard stare. "Would you rather we encouraged them, expect them to sacrifice everything in order to focus on their dreams, only to tell them seven years later that all was for naught?"

"Maybe they just want to dance," Harry pointed out. Why did no one seem to understand that you could dance without competition?

Snape waved his comment away. "And other schools will happily take them. Hogwarts has no place for just dancing."

And still he had ended up here, Harry mused silently. However, he guessed people like Tom Riddle had not been taken into account in Snape's equation. He thought it best not to comment on it though.

"So are we done here?" he asked instead.

"We are," Snape dismissed him, making a few last notes. "Don't forget your stretching."

Harry turned his back to him and rolled his eyes

"The room has mirrors Potter," Snape pointed out wryly.

Harry grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

"So we heard you're dancing with the big boys now?"

"Just one day at Hogwarts and already promoted to the next level!"

"That's our little Harry!"

"They grow up so quickly!"

Harry glared at the twins as they wiped away imaginary tears.

In a rare stroke of luck, he hadn't seen Tom when he came back last evening and this morning the other student had been in the bathroom as Harry slipped out. Still, his mood hadn't improved much.

It might have even worsened a bit at the twin's wide grins after he had told them who his roommate was.

"Why that's just perfect!" they had exclaimed.

"The Hero and Voldemort living together!"

"George, we should let the students place bets on who kills the other first!"

Harry might have been able to let their jokes slide with an exasperated look, but they had actually went ahead and _done it_. So far every student they had asked had responded with Voldemort without a second thought.

Tom Riddle seemed to have a very solid reputation. And sharing a room was not included in it.

"But seriously Harry, watch your back with the seventh years," Fred warned him.

"The performance decides their future," George explained. "Most dancers won't get a contract and will repeat the year voluntarily to get another shot. So for at least half of the class this is their very last chance."

"Ugh. I think Snape put me there just to see me suffer," Harry groaned.

Fred laughed. "Not to worry brave hero! There are a handful of students that are okay, even in the seventh division."

"And just as many lunatics of course."

They came to a stop in front of the sixth division's classroom. "Well whatever horrors you shall find Harry, you will find them at the end of this corridor." They pointed to their left.

"Thanks, I guess," Harry grumbled and started walking towards his new class. And his impending doom.

"And stay away from Draco Malfoy!" They yelled after him. "He was supposed to dance the Hero!"

Harry blanched momentarily at that. Lucius Malfoy's son should have been the Hero? And his own father had paid for an untrained dancer to play it instead? Ew. No wonder Dumbledore had advised him not to tell anyone.

He arrived at the classroom and stood in front of the half open door hesitantly. He had already changed in the dorms, so at least he wouldn't have to use the dressing room with the others, hopefully drawing less attention to himself until class started.

But he knew that once he entered the classroom and was faced with a bunch of strangers he wouldn't be able to blend in. Maybe he should slip in at the last minute? But then Snape would take that as an excuse to already single him out.

Right when he had made the decision to stop overthinking things and just enter, a hand on his shoulder held him back.

"Where were you this morning?" Tom asked him with a frown. "You didn't even make your bed. I expect you to be tidier in the future. And have you even had breakfast yet? I told you to eat properly."

"What are you, my mother?" Harry replied annoyed.

"No, but your roommate and dance partner for the next few _months_. I'd rather pass them in a congenial relationship."

Harry just scowled at him.

"Alright, at least not in a worse one than we already have," he conceded.

"Let's just get to class," Harry sighed.

"You don't like confrontations do you?"

"You don't want it to get worse Tom? Then shut up."

"Ah well," Tom smirked unconcerned. "Not everyone is a morning person."

With that he went ahead and entered the classroom, leaving a fuming Harry to trail after him.

Tom immediately made his way to the other side of the studio, where a small group of people seemed to wait for him.

Harry noticed that there were boys and girls in this class. Hogwarts students had several joined classes from the fourth division on upwards, to learn how to dance with a partner.

Before Harry could take a good look around, someone in front of him staggered back and bumped into him.

"Whoops, terribly sorry about that…Oh wow you certainly look ready for murder," the student had turned around to face him and Harry blinked surprised. The older dancer was taller and more muscular than him, but for a moment Harry could have sworn he was looking in a mirror.

Another boy suddenly appeared next to Harry and threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders in a sociable manner. "Ready for murder? Excellent! How about we cut that bitch up first?"

He glared across the room to a female dancer with dark, curly hair that stood next to Tom.

"Ha! That's rich coming from you, you mutt!" she shot back, her wild hair still flowing untamed across her back and not neatly in a bun like ballerinas were required to.

"Ouch I'm wounded you think so low of me, you cow," her classmate sneered back.

"Come over here and I show you what I think of you, _cousin."_

"Oh you've done it now you-..!"

"Sirius! Come on, she's not worth it," interrupted the student that had bumped into Harry.

"Easy for you to say," Sirius grumbled miserably. "You aren't related to _that_."

"It could be worse," his friend said placably.

Sirius gave him an incredulous look.

He shrugged. "You could be siblings."

"Ugh! Don't make me imagine things like that so early in the morning!"

"Ehm…" Harry made uncertainly, trying to get their attention, feeling a bit awkward standing between them so chummily.

Sirius looked down on him, his arm still draped over Harry’s shoulders. "Oh hi."

"Err, hi," he greeted back.

"Woah you look eerie similar," he turned to his friend. "Doesn't he?"

His friend grinned. "Definitely better than having Malfoy as my son." He extended a hand for Harry to shake. "I'm James by the way. I'll dance the Father. And the Stag. Sorry about him," he nodded to Sirius. "He'll be your hot-headed, roguish Godfather."

"At least I'm alive and not a bloody memory," Sirius teased back.

James snorted. "At least until she-…"

"Don't mention it!"

"Ah," Harry made knowingly, watching the dark haired women across the room. She was now ignoring Sirius in favour of giving Tom her full attention. "Female Death Eater?" he asked.

"Bellatrix Black. And my cousin, much to my pain. Strangely fitting right?"

The Godfather and the Female Death Eater were cousins as well. It really was quite weird that the two dancers would be related as well.

The more students Harry got to know, the more he was convinced that the characters of 'A Prophecy' fit this school to a T. Maybe Dumbledore hadn't simply chosen the hardest ballet to impress the world, but instead noticed these parallels and predicted how well his students would be able to perform their characters.

The Potion's Master came to Harry’s mind. Hell, Snape would be the perfect cast for him. Harry’s eyes widened in horror. But teachers couldn't perform in the production right?! He would have to ask the twins as soon as possible.

Harry suddenly realized that James' hand was still floating in front of him. He shook it. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

He took in James appearance, his dark unruly hair, his chin and cheekbones, his taller yet similar frame. All in all he had to agree with Sirius. They did look quite alike.

He guessed Sirius and James belonged to the category that the twins had deemed 'okay'. They seemed to be friendly enough at least.

"So who's my mum?" he smiled and Sirius laughed, pointing at James dreamy expression.

"That goofball's crush. She doesn't give him the time of day though. Her name is Lily. The redhead over there, probably the only one besides all the Weasleys." He pointed to a beautiful girl with dark red hair, who was chatting with other female dancers in a corner while preparing her shoes.

Harry tried his best not to let his shock show on his face. He knew next to nothing about his parents, except that they had died in a car crash and that his mother had a sister. The orphanage had neither known nor cared about his family, and his aunt had never told him anything either.

He knew only one thing from an old family album he had found when he was still at the Dursleys. His mum had been called Lily.

These parallels were starting to freak him out.

Before he could talk further with his two new classmates, Snape stormed in, closing and _locking_ the door behind him. His eyes locked briefly with Harry’s before he turned away, facing the whole class.

"Attention, everyone!" He didn't need to raise his voice, he was the kind of teacher that kept everyone under control with his presence alone.

The class quieted down and everyone still sitting stood up.

"As you've probably all heard, Hogwarts' end of year performance will take place after all."

Some students that had already noticed Harry glanced in his direction.

"'A Prophecy' is by far the most difficult piece this school has ever done. We will also have to do it in even less time than originally planned. Due to this I have decided that the seventh division will focus solely on their parts from the very beginning of the semester. We will work on the dramatics in the regular rehearsals with the sixth year students and additionally perfect the technique in here. Today we will start with the pas de deux."

Sirius elbowed James in the ribs and nodded grinningly in Lily's direction. James gave her a hopeful and somewhat nervous smile. Her eyebrows rose slightly in response.

"Almost everyone here has one or several duets during the play. Those that dance with one partner exclusively can form their pairs now. The others will start with the one that presents the most problems."

Snape's eyes fell on Harry. "Mr Potter, to Mr Riddle if you would."

Harry gulped as he felt everyone's attention on him.

He crossed the room, feeling increasingly sick at their assessing and judging looks. A blonde boy caught his eyes and Harry quickly turned away from the sheer contempt he saw in them. He came to a stop next to Tom, trying hard to appear unbothered by their stares.

"Miss and Mr Black, to the front where I can see you and prevent any…accidents."

The two cousins looked ready to kill Snape.

A few other pairs were called, but none of them seemed to dislike each other. Harry guessed that it was the actual choreography that gave them problems, not their partners.

Though Lily looked more resigned than happy at James' attempts to make her laugh with his jokes.

"Our pianist will give us a general piece to help a bit, but keep in mind your specific music may vary considerably in tempo."

The students shuffled around, forming their pairs and started to spread out in the big studio to avoid any collisions. The chatter soon died down as the dancers cautiously began their duets for the first time.

Harry was convinced that even with the whole seventh division in one room, Snape was still able to somehow pick up on every mistake. But for now, their teacher seemed content with letting them try on their own first, to get a feeling for their partners.

Instead of picking the pairs apart right from the beginning, he came over to Tom and Harry.

"I thought you two might benefit the most if you don't dance a scene per se, but rather work on some positions that will require teamwork," he narrowed his eyes at both of them, obviously not impressed by their effort in that particular area so far.

"Mr Riddle, Potter here weights 53 kilos, which shouldn't be a problem for you."

Harry sputtered. "What the-? Why would you tell him that?"

"So that Mr Riddle knows what to expect when he lifts you. There aren't that many roles where two male dancers have a duet, so classes focus mostly on female dance partners."

"You're hardly any heavier than them though. You really need to eat more," Tom chastised him.

"Come on then Mr Potter, let's see how you hold up en pointe."

Usually it was the girls who had to suffer this uncomfortable position, but more and more male roles required pointe work.

He concealed his grimace as he lifted himself on his toes. He felt like the tiniest breeze could tip him over.

"Arms straight and keep your head up Potter!" Snape pushed his chin up. "The mirror is here so you can correct your position, start using it."

"I'll lose my balance," Harry warned, trying his best not to look at the ground while keeping his balance. His feet already started to ache, without the specialised shoes he wouldn't be able to hold himself up for much longer.

"What do you think a partner is for Potter?"

Tom gripped his hips and pulled a bit upwards. He didn't lift him up, but it definitely took a lot of his weight of his feet and steadied him.

"Mr Riddle since when do we clutch at our partners like that? Support him lightly, make it look effortless. Now spin and toss him."

Toss?! Wait what?

Before Harry could react, the world blurred as he was spun faster than ever before. He gave a startled yelp as he felt his feet lift the ground. The tension in his muscles was gone instantly and instead of spinning gracefully in the air he started flailing uncontrollably. Only Snape's intervention prevented him from falling on his face.

"Potter what on earth was that?"

"I was trying not to fall over," Harry gritted out as he straightened himself.

"You don't have to correct anything in your position, Mr Riddle will do it for you. He can't predict your movement if you keep changing your body tension. Let him take control."

Harry let out a frustrated huff.

Sape scowled at him. "Fear won't get you anywhere. You have to learn how to trust each other."

"I'm the one doing the hard work. You should just let me," was Tom's unhelpful remark.

"You're not the one that gets thrown in the air," he glowered angrily.

"Again!" commanded Snape.

Harry got into position again, this time forcing himself to stay still as Tom lifted him again. He was honestly surprised when he managed to land on his feet this time.

But before he could do anything else, Tom was already gripping him again, hurling him up for a second time. He started flailing again, but was able to keep his balance and tried to jump away from his 'partner'.

Tom wouldn't have any of it and came after him, taking control of his arm this time and twirled him mercilessly. The pirouettes were much faster than Harry was accustomed to and he soon lost all orientation. Alone he would have fallen over instantly, but Tom kept him upright and flipped him through the air again.

This continued for a while, without Harry even having the chance to do anything on his own. Tom took advantage of that and started going through other positions while he began to dance as well.

Harry became increasingly annoyed with Tom's flaunting. It was as if the other dancer was deliberately showing him just how easy it was for him to pick Harry up and twirl him around, how effortlessly he could toy with him.

So Harry started to intentionally screw their forms up. He spun too fast for Tom to catch him, jumped too early when Tom wasn't ready and let his muscles relax on purpose whenever he should stay tense, so that Tom couldn't lift him up properly and had to let him go.

Tom's smug smile soon turned into a concentrated frown, as he all but hunted him. Despite Snape's orders to just practice their positions, they were soon dancing around each other.

But this time, there was no choreography. It was simply action and reaction. It was as if they were playing a particularly fast and intricate game of tag.

Harry was so concentrated on both his own dancing and Tom's movements that he was only distantly aware that they started to use more and more space.

He suddenly found himself in a corner, Tom in front of him. Harry surprised him by jumping up voluntarily, practically forcing the other to catch him. There was no room left for doubts, he simply knew Tom would be fast enough to react. He used Tom's support and his own momentum to float _ove_ r him, landing on the other, open side of the room.

Their chase continued and Harry’s heart raced with them.

As they started to learn more about each other, it became easier to predict what the other would do. Expecting Tom to move in a certain way and then seeing that he did in fact make exactly that move somehow reassured Harry. He might not trust Tom, but he started to trust himself at getting the reactions he wanted out of him.

He knew Tom would be fast enough to evade him when he twirled directly in his path. Knew that he only had to get ready for a leap before Tom would already hold him back. Knew that he could let himself fall backwards and Tom would catch his arms, swinging him around.

He just happened to use that information to dodge the other, rather than work with him.

Tom managed to grip his hips from the front in an unguarded moment and Harry was lifted up, but this time Tom kept him there, stopping their movement for the moment. They stared at each other for a few seconds, assessing the other with their newfound knowledge.

Then loud, sharp claps startled them out of their game.

Tom slowly put him back to the ground and Harry saw that everyone else had stopped to watch them. Their expressions ranged from awed to amused, excited or carefully blank.

"It appears before I teach you how to dance, I'll first have to teach you how to follow instructions," Snape said drily, but he was watching them just as intently as the rest of the class.

"Err, sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "It just…happened."

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Immersing oneself in the dance is required for a convincing act, but please try to retain some awareness about your surroundings. At this rate one of you will actually end up killing the other."

"You're too harsh Severus. I personally thought that was remarkable," chuckled a new voice from the door. Lucius Malfoy sauntered in, inspecting the situation. "And you are working overtime old friend."

"I leave these hopeless dunderheads in your hands Lucius," Snape sneered. "Maybe you have more luck in harvesting their energy."

He left the classroom without another word, surely to torture another division.

Lucius took his place in front of the class. "Well then everyone. Are you ready to start spinning?"

From the loud groan that answered him, Harry guessed that they wouldn't have much energy left after that lesson.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about Lily and James: I left their last names out on purpose. As you can imagine using some characters as dancers in the play and others in 'real' life is bound to lead to complications. I didn't want to invent new names for them, so I'll just call them by their first name only. Also, Lily doesn't hold the same grudge against James as in canon (bullying Snape is here obviously impossible xD), she's just...not impressed by him so far^^.


	5. When Beginnings do not bode well

 

 

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Harry groaned as he sat down next to the twins and Ron.

Harry had decided to use his lunch break to meet up with his friend and they were in their usual park again. The twins had spontaneously tagged along.

Ron grimaced in disgust and alarm. "Not on me mate, face the other direction!"

"We take it you met Mr Malfoy?" George grinned.

"His pirouettes come straight from hell," Fred agreed sympathetically.

Harry risked a glance at his meal, which was personalized by Hogwarts' specialised cooks, full of protein-rich dishes and about twice the portion he normally ate. He quickly closed the lid of the box again as a new wave of vertigo hit him.

He loved pirouettes. They were fast, graceful and were just fun to do on his own, even if he sometimes lost balance.

What Lucius Malfoy had them do was just… Harry gulped down a bit of bile that crept up into his mouth.

He had pushed them to their limits. Always encouraging, yet never quite satisfied. Faster, faster, faster. Pirouetting in circles, pirouetting with jumps, pirouetting with closed eyes, pirouetting in line with everybody, pirouetting for all eternity.

And all that amidst a dozen other pirouetting bodies.

The only students that could keep up with the murderous pace were Tom and Lucius Malfoy's son Draco. He wasn't surprised about Tom and he guessed there must be something in the Malfoy genes that gave them an affinity for spinning.

Harry was quite convinced he never wanted to make a single turn again.

"Your food looks delicious though," Ron pointed out.

"Ugh, want some? There's no way I can eat all of that." Harry held the box out for him and Ron took some out into his own.

"Tsk, tsk, Harry, don't tell Snape that," Fred warned him merrily.

"I don't plan to," Harry replied grumpily.

"Is he that bad?" Ron asked them while chewing on a mouthful of Harry's food.

George shrugged. "He can be."

"Though we heard our Harry here impressed him this morning," Fred winked and elbowed Harry playfully.

Harry laughed. "You need to check your sources guys, he was more pissed than anything. I ruined his class."

"Our sources are Sirius and Bellatrix Black."

"And if these two can agree on something it might as well be written in stone."

Harry silently had to agree with that.

"So he might like you after all, good for you mate," Ron said cheerfully between two bites.

Harry thought back to his physical assessment. Snape had been snarky as expected, but also surprisingly open with him.

"Why doesn't he dance?" Harry asked the twins. "I mean, as far as I know he never even went on stage although he graduated top of his class. He even beat Lucius Malfoy!"

"Aahh, the tragedy of Severus Snape," the twins sighed in unison.

"We've heard _tons_ of stories," Fred told him wistfully.

"As far as we can tell no one really knows what happened."

"All everyone agrees on is that something _did_ happen."

George nodded pensively. "We've seen him dance shortly and rarely, if he wants to demonstrate something."

"But apparently he has some kind of serious injury."

"No wonder he's such a git then. You dancers are like ephemeropterans, you only live for one day," Ron interrupted.

"Ephemeropteran? My, such a big word, baby brother," Fred teased.

"Some people go to a normal high school," Ron grumbled affronted. "And have jobs they can still do when they're sixty."

"How boring," George said to his twin and Ron attempted to stab them with his knife.

"Yet he obviously can dance so it can't be _that_ serious, right?" Harry asked when Ron had been disarmed an rendered harmless by the twins.

George shrugged. "Still, the rumours all agree it's quite the tragic story, even though no one knows the story."

_Believe me Potter, you do not want to make my mistakes._

"Hmm," Harry made contemplatively. "So he definitely won't dance in the performance, right?"

Fred shook his head. "Nah, teachers don't participate, why?"

"I've just been thinking how similar he is to the Potion's Master."

"Oh you're right! He would be perfect!" George exclaimed excitedly. "Somehow evil but still with the good guys, I can totally see it."

"Anyways, our dearest Harry," Fred opened Harry's lunch box and held it up under his nose, trying to tempt him. "We have our first rehearsal soon and you do not want to go there with an empty stomach."

Harry sighed and reluctantly started to eat. The world was still a bit wobbly in his head, but he was actually quite hungry as well.

By the time they had to go back he was nowhere near finished, but at least he had eaten something. He gave the rest of it to Ron and followed the twins back to Hogwarts.

The twins wanted to meet up with their friend Lee before the rehearsal, so they parted with Harry and went to the dining hall to search for him.

"Rehearsals take place in the biggest studio on the fifth floor, see you there," they told him and waved him goodbye.

Harry started climbing the huge staircase, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. Since lunch break was over, everyone was busy finding their friends, shoes, clothes and hurried to their classes. During lessons the corridors were deserted, but right now Hogwarts was brimming with life.

He reached the third floor and was about to head up to the fourth, when he suddenly heard a loud splash. He turned his head, trying to see where the weird sound had come from, but only saw a group of girls running past him while laughing obnoxiously.

He took a few steps in the direction they had come from and peeked into the corridor.

A petite girl stood there alone, her fair hair and clothes completely soaked in water. She was wringing out her long hair, the water forming a small puddle on the floor.

"Err, hey," Harry greeted gently, "Are you…okay?"

The girl turned to him and Harry's eyes widened when he recognized her. "You were at the auditions! You were brilliant as a female hero!"

She smiled softly and started to wring out her top. "Too brilliant for some."

"What happened?" Harry frowned, seeing the empty bucket a few steps away from the girl.

She shrugged unconcerned. "Nothing much. It seems like some of the seniors decided I needed a shower. It's okay, I don't like this top anyways, now I have an excuse to change."

They began walking up the stairs together, earning some strange looks due to the girl's completely drenched appearance and the trail of water she left behind.

"Are you a Hogwarts student now?" Harry asked, noticing that she seemed to know where she was going.

"Hmm, good question. The answer is both yes and no."

"Err…"

"Headmaster Dumbledore offered me the role of the Outcast," she explained and shrugged. "Maybe the girls just wanted to get me into character."

Harry had some serious doubts about that.

"Dumbledore told me only Hogwarts students can dance in the production."

"Yes, that's the complicated part. They would accept me into Hogwarts as a regular student, but me and my dad don't really have the money for it. Dumbledore said that maybe we can arrange it so that I don't have to be a student after all and I should just attend rehearsals for now so…" She smiled. "Here I am."

I guess not everyone had a guardian angel that blackmailed the whole schoolboard to get a scholarship, Harry thought sarcastically.

"Is that why you didn't attend Hogwarts before? Because you would have totally gotten in, you were definitely on the same level as the students."

"I'm not really sure if I want to be a ballerina. I love to dance, but the competition isn't really my thing," she answered dreamily.

Harry smiled at her. Finally someone who got it. "I totally understand you. Those girls on the other hand certainly didn't. I think the senior students don't really like us."

She hummed nonchalantly. "Well they don't have to like me, I'm the Outcast anyways. But the Hero should get along at least with some of them."

"Some are alright, you'll see," he promised, as they came to a stop in front of the girls dressing rooms on the fifth floor.

"I better go change then. Be careful not to get soaked as well," she winked.

"Wait, I- uhm, I'm Harry by the way, it was nice meeting you."

Her smile grew wider. "Luna Lovegood. See you in a minute."

Luna, huh. She definitely was a good dancer. He just wondered why Dumbledore would suddenly change the cast.

Harry had to walk a bit further down the corridor before he arrived at his destination. The two-winged door stood wide open, allowing the constant flux of students and orchestra members entry.

Harry entered and was properly awed.

The studio was huge. It was at least as big as the auditorium, but instead of rows with seats, the space below the stage was a dance floor as well and one wall was covered with mirrors. There was even a generous space for the orchestra just below the stage, like in the real auditorium.

There was however no backstage space. The stage was merely an elevated platform, mimicking the real stage in the auditorium.

"Give that back Bella!"

"Come and get it idiotic cousin!"

Harry saw Sirius chasing Bellatrix all over the large space, murder in his eyes. Bellatrix seemed to have snatched one of his dance belts and was waving it above her head while cackling madly.

The two of them almost managed to knock down Flitwick several times.

He looked around for Tom, hoping he could avoid his roommate in this rehearsal since it seemed like they would practice a group dance.

He spotted him in one of the corners, surprisingly alone and already warming up at the barre, while all the other students were chatting. No wonder he was the top student, the guy was a workaholic.

"Harry!" the twins greeted from behind, one hand on each of Harry's shoulders.

"Guess what we just heard!" Fred grinned excitedly.

"Apparently you have an accomplice!"

"The both of you…"

"…sneaking into Hogwarts like that." They shook their head in faked exasperation.

"At least we didn't have to drag her to the auditions, George."

"Unlike a certain someone." They sent Harry a pointed look.

Harry rolled his eyes at them. "You mean Luna? I just met her, actually. Some really don't seem to like her though. A few of the senior girls threw water at her, I think she's being bullied."

The twins' faces fell slightly.

"Well…" George started hesitantly.

"I guess that couldn't have been helped huh?" Fred asked him.

"No one threw water at me," Harry pointed out.

Their grins returned temporarily. "Yet."

Harry laughed and swatted at them. "Optimistic as always I see. But seriously, she has barely set foot into the school."

"Yeah, but you know, the auditions were only for the Hero," Fred reminded him.

"All the other roles were already cast."

"So if they give her a part now…"

"It means someone had to give up her part," George explained.

"Seeing as that someone is Pansy Parkinson…" they nodded to a brown haired girl who was talking to Draco Malfoy in a corner.

"It would have surprised me if she just let it go."

"She can only dance as one of the Slytherin students now, some of the sixth years have a bigger role than her."

So the seniors were tolerating him so far, but Luna had it worse because she got a role that had already been fixedly cast? He hoped for her sake that the girls got over it quickly, jealousy could drive people to do insane things.

Minerva McGonagall clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Is everyone here? Gather around please!"

The music students stopped tuning their instruments and the room fell silent, except for the shuffling of feet as the dancers gathered in front of the teachers. For this rehearsal it was only McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape.

Harry curiously searched for Luna. He could see her slip unnoticed into the room just then, with different clothes on, but apparently still completely drenched and her hair even more soaked than before. Harry frowned, guessing that someone had pulled the same prank for a second time.

"Welcome students, to the first rehearsal of 'A Prophecy'," McGonagall continued. "As you can see it is also one where everyone is present. This will not always be so. You will receive your personal rehearsal plan later this week, so you will know which of your scenes are practiced when, where and with whom. Larger group dances will always take place in this room and-…" She broke off, her eyes falling on Luna.

"Miss Lovegood, why are you completely wet? You're dripping on the floor!"

The students next to Luna only noticed the drenched girl now and hastily took a few steps back to get out of the puddle that formed around her.

Luna calmly smiled at the teachers. "Sorry Miss McGonagall, the weather in Hogwarts is unexpectedly rainy today and I forgot my umbrella."

"I- but…It's sunny outside…" McGonagall finished lamely.

Luna nodded sincerely. "Yes that's what fooled me too."

McGonagall pulled herself together and her stern look returned. "Well, I'm sorry but I have to insist that you go change your clothes. You can't possibly dance like that."

"I'm afraid my other set of clothes suffered the same fate earlier today. I didn't think to bring three."

"You can have some of mine if you'd like," another girl interrupted. When Harry craned his neck he saw the red hair of Lily. "The size might not fit perfectly, but it should be alright."

Luna and Lily quickly left the room to go back to the dressing room. Harry thought he could see Lily throwing a furious glance in Pansy's direction.

"Err, yes, where was I?" McGonagall mumbled. "Ah yes, today we will start with the sorting ceremony of the first act, as it is the first major group dance. It will mostly be supervised by Filius, so, I'd say we get right to it."

She made a gesture for Flitwick to take over and the small teacher stepped forwards, smiling at all of them excitedly.

"Alright then, I know most of you will have watched the piece several times and studied the existing choreography in class, but I want you to forget that for a while. Instead, I want you to _think_ about the characteristics of your house. Bravery, knowledge, loyalty and ambition. Picture them in your mind and interpret them through your body. Yes? Who knows, maybe we'll see some moves in your improvisations that we'll actually use later on! Now then, Miss Granger, music for the Gryffindor's please! Show us what strength and courage looks like!"

Harry saw the bushy haired girl step up to the small conductor's podium, her expression determined.

The orchestra hurried to finish their tuning as the students arranged themselves. Those that wouldn't dance just yet shuffled to the walls, while the ones playing a Gryffindor stepped in front of the big mirror.

As Hogwarts only allowed seventh and sixth years to be in the production, everyone also had a part as one of the wizarding students for the big group dances.

Those that would additionally dance bigger roles would change between different costumes during the performance. The only one that would not play a student was Tom Riddle, as Voldemort was just too iconic to use within the school dances as well.

Harry wondered when they would get their costumes. He kind of hoped his would remain the same during the whole play. He didn't look forward to change backstage where it was sure to get chaotic.

The twins almost jumped form excitement as they walked with Harry to the centre. "Free improvisations? How awesome is that? They almost never let us do that!"

"Yeah and those weird expressive-dance test thingies don't count," Fred agreed.

One of their friends followed behind them. "Ugh, of course you two would say that. I suck at improv."

George patted his shoulder. "Come on Lee, take heart!"

"You can't possibly be worse than Malfoy!"

"Lucius is bad at improvisations?" Harry asked incredulously. He had taken the man for someone who had no problems expressing themselves through any form of art.

"No, it's Draco. If you ignore Tom Riddle, he gets top grades in everything apart from improv. Everyone knows, because he's always crying that it's a useless skill anyways."

"He's still better than me," sighed Lee behind them. "He's a seventh year after all."

"Mr Potter, to the front please! You're the one that will get sorted, you'll have to go through all of them!" Flitwick waved for him to come closer.

Harry suppressed a groan. "Wish me luck with the Ravenclaws. I mean, how the hell do you portray intelligence in a dance?"

"I'd go for curiosity if I were you, you're the Hero after all. There's a reason why he arrives at all the dangerous places first right?" Fred shrugged.

Harry was still pretty nervous when he stepped to the front. He knew everyone standing at the sides would use this to get a first good look at him. And honestly? He wasn't sure how well he would do at improvisation. It's not like anyone ever graded his secluded dances in the park.

His biggest hope was the music. He already knew from the auditions that the score wasn't exactly the same as the in the DVD of Salazar's famous performance of 'A Prophecy'. It was a new arrangement by the music students.

He glanced at the female conductor again. Granger…He hoped she wouldn't let him down this time either. He needed something good if he wanted to get lost in the various emotions of the different houses.

There was a quiet pause before the music started.

Harry saw in the mirror that most of the students stood still, taking their time to come up with something.

He had to grin when he saw two red heads bouncing around in what seemed to be a whole story about an epic battle. A few seconds later they got Sirius to join them, while Lee and a few others stood there looking rather unsure.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shutting everything out except the music.

Gryffindor. Brave and chivalrous, strong and loud, honourable and courageous. Definitely big gestures.

Majestic and proud to the point of being arrogant. Head held up and high jumps, fearless of consequences.

He didn't know when he had started moving, he let the music guide him. It was fast-paced and gave him the urgency to dance right now, to live right now, taking risks without any regrets.

Technique be damned, this was the time to follow his intuition and do the very first thing the music brought to mind. The reflexes that saved the Hero's life countless times.

Before he knew it he found himself enjoying the exercise quite a bit.

The students behind him danced away and were replaced by the next group as the music changed in tempo and tone.

The change wasn't drastic, the music as still warm and lively, but more peaceful and slow.

Hufflepuff then. House of loyalty and friendship, honesty and kindness.

The Hero craved friends. Harry had almost given up on kindness by the time he was a teenager. If he hadn't met the Weasleys, he probably wouldn't be able to even imagine the meanings of these terms.

Humble steps with overflowing gentleness, feet stepping softly on the ground. The feeling of a warm summer evening filled with laughter.

Laughter gave way to silent thoughts. The music gained a somewhat contemplative quality, as if studying its own notes.

Harry briefly opened his eyes and saw Luna sway back and forth as she took in the music.

Ravenclaw. Intelligence…maybe not necessarily. More like witty and smart, creative and eccentric. Perfectly fine in loneliness, yet connected in their wisdom. A never-ending search for knowledge, an underlining curiosity that could overpower fear.

Precise twirling and complex movements. Jumps that tested muscle strength and gravitational force, as if curious what the perfect height was.

The music became colder, dangerous almost.

Powerful without Gryffindor's chivalry. Cunning without Ravenclaw's contemplativeness. Charisma without Hufflepuff's kindness.

The house of the ambitious survivors, Slytherin.

Harry was about to try if he could pull of 'determination', when suddenly someone behind him pulled him away from his spot in the front and towards the middle.

He was so surprised he almost stumbled over his own feet, but luckily he regained his balance pretty quickly. He caught a gimps of Bellatrix Black's grinning face.

He didn't know if they had discussed this or if it was a spontaneous decision, but assuming they didn't do it to blatantly humiliate him, it actually made a lot of sense.

Although the Hero would eventually end up in Gryffindor, he practically had to fight not to be sorted into Slytherin.

So that was what Harry did, trying to get away from the centre, away from the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy blocked his way and started spinning, forcing him back. The whole group of dancers spontaneously followed his example and Harry was pushed even further away from his goal.

The quality of strict hierarchy and synchronisation - certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Draco's face was locked in concentration as he showed off his famous pirouettes, which were actually really damn impressive in Harry's opinion.

He just found the boy's passive aggressive attitude quite annoying. It was clear Draco thought they had a score to settle and tried to force him into an open confrontation.

Well, if the whole group was so determined to push him back then Harry saw no reason to stay. So far the only one that succeeded in goading him was Tom. Harry preferred it stayed that way, he had no intention in competing with Draco as well.

So instead of trying to get past Draco and back to the front, Harry started twirling like the rest of them and went further back, then jumped out from there and danced around the whole group, back to his original position.

The music ended just in time.

Flitwick seemed pleased. "Very good, very good! You've all done quite nicely. You will receive a CD with the music as soon as possible so you can familiarize yourself even more with your house. Of course, in the end we will have a well-defined choreography for every part. Oh and Mr Potter!"

He turned to Harry and jokingly held up a finger. "According to that last manoeuvre, I'm afraid our Hero would have ended up with the cunning Slytherins after all!"

Draco snorted loudly and stumped back to the side without sparing him a glance. Well that was just lovely.

Snape stepped forward and immediately commanded everyone's attention.

"The majority of you will now continue rehearsing the houses and start working on the choreography under the supervision of Mrs McGonagall and Mr Flitwick. The exceptions are Mr Riddle, Mr Potter and the handful of students dancing the basilisk. Act 2 scene 14, to the stage please."

Huh, apparently he wouldn't be able to avoid Tom after all. Well at least he go to destroy him.

He exchanged a wave and a smile with the twins as he made his way up the stage on the other side of the room. From the dozen of students that gathered there he only recognized Draco, Bellatrix, Lily and James. As well as-…

"Finally, I was wondering why I was even here."

…Tom Riddle, obviously.

"Didn't get enough attention from your fans today?" Harry teased.

"From you I didn't."

"We ruined Snape's class," Harry reminded him of their spontaneous duet.

"Ruined?" smirked Tom. "You get the strangest ideas."

"Alright then," Snape appeared behind them and dumped a large box on the stage floor. "Second to last scene of act two. Does anyone care to recapitulate? Miss Black?"

"Scary chamber, huge snake, bad diary and dying little sister?"

A few students started giggling.

"Very accurate," Snape sneered. "The key element here is the snake. Or rather, the intricate dance of the snake."

He opened the box and pulled out what seemed to be a large bundle of clothes. After unwrapping it with the help of the other dancers, Harry saw an impressive snake head at one end.

"This is the general concept of the basilisk costume, the real one will be made with more care and finer details. As you know, even before all roles were cast, the first thing we started to practice when we decided to do 'A Prophecy' was the dance of the snake. Why?"

Draco Malfoy held up a hand. "Because we will have to be able to do it blind. Literally."

"And?"

"And because we are so close behind each other that one mistake will send us all to the ground?"

"And most likely break our legs," Bellatrix chirped in. "Or twist our knees. Or tear our tendons."

The others regarded her with a good measure of trepidation.

"Yes, exactly. The audience will only see your legs and while it might not look extremely complicated, it is actually one of the most dangerous scenes of the piece. But you are seniors and have been practicing this specific choreography for weeks now. Even when blind, you managed to always stay within the area and avoid any collisions."

The students looked more confident after that.

Snape turned to Harry. "Potter, are you sure you know the choreography?"

The other students tensed up again, suddenly realizing that there was one dancer that had never been present during their practice.

He tried to look as confident and reliable as possible. "Yes sir."

"Are you _absolutely_ certain? The dancers under the basilisk are tightly together and completely blind. They will dance exactly like they practiced and won't be able to react to anything. They will use every bit of free space on this stage as they wind around you in complicated patterns. If you are even a few steps off, they will bump into you and fall on each other, maybe even off the stage. One wrong step from _anyone_ on this stage and we could have numerous severely injured dancers. Do you understand Potter? Not. one. wrong. step."

Harry nodded mutely.

Snape turned back to the rest. "That applies to everyone!"

He handed the basilisk head to Draco and left the stage to observe from afar, taking the empty box with him.

The head had obviously the biggest responsibility. After all, if he went wrong everyone behind him would follow.

Harry caught one last warning glance from Draco before the blond head disappeared inside the huge head. There was a general hustling about as the other students disappeared under the rest of the costume.

Only a small girl from the sixth division didn't line up with them and lay down on the floor instead, using a random book as a prop for the diary.

"Nervous?" Tom asked teasingly.

Harry shot him an irritated look. "Only if you suddenly start tossing me again."

"Are you implying _I_ don't know the choreography?"

Harry sighed at his affronted tone. "Just…don't do any unexpected stuff. I'd probably react intuitively and forget about the steps."

"Don't worry, you're dancing with me."

Harry glared at him.

"You can dance as intuitively as you want, I'll be the perfect Voldemort. All you have to do is react to me," Tom smirked.

"I just don't want anyone getting injured. How do I even slay the basilisk if I don't have the sword?"

"Just punch it."

Harry snorted and shook his head as he took his position.

When everyone was ready the orchestra started to play.

Harry's dance wouldn't start before Voldemort appeared, so for now all he had to do was approach the Sister. The music was slow and creepy, giving him the chills.

The basilisk already slithered around the edges of the stage, clearly visible to the audience, but unnoticed by the Hero.

Harry kneeled next to the girl, trying to get into character. This was the little sister of the Hero's best friend. So that essentially made her like Ginny then.

Harry had a strong connection with everyone from the Weasley family, he could almost consider them his own. How would he feel if Ginny lay here unconscious and barely alive?

The music skipped and he abruptly jumped up, as if he heard something. He turned his back to her and made a few steps closer to the basilisk, seemingly sensing the danger.

The music suddenly erupted into chaos and dissonance as danger approached. The basilisk stretched to its impressive length at the very front of the stage, partially obscuring the audience's vision as Voldemort emerged from the shadows.

Harry stood motionless as Voldemort stroked the Sister's head, still thinking him a friend.

Tom pulled his hand back and stared at it blankly. Harry followed his gaze and saw with a start that it was bloody.

What? Where did the blood come from? Tom couldn't have hurt himself that badly just now. Was the girl bleeding?!

The basilisk had drawn a circle around Harry and Tom, concealing them completely for that moment. Thankfully the Hero had to stand still anyways right now, so Harry's shock didn't hinder anybody.

"Hey, she's injured!" he shouted, but his voice was completely drowned by the orchestra, which was pulling all its registers as the conflict approached.

And he was still hidden by the basilisk, besides, Snape stood quite far away from the stage anyways, to get a good look at the whole picture.

_You've got to be kidding me…_

He looked frantically at Tom, who was checking the girls head with his other hand. It came back bloody as well.

After another look at his hands, Tom's head snapped up and their eyes locked.

Then Tom held both of his hands up and waved at him. Harry frowned in utter confusion.

Tom smirked tauntingly.

_What..?_

What was…?

Just what was happening here?

He watched in horror as Tom made no inclination to alert anyone and instead pointed directly at him, a few sharp notes giving the signal for the basilisk to attack.

And within a split second, all hell broke loose.

.

 


	6. When Realities start to resonate

 

Left. Left. Turn. Duck. Spin. Jump.

Harry's body moved automatically, going through the motions he had seen so many times with ease.

But his mind was frantically searching for other options. Options that would bring him closer to Tom and the injured girl. Ironically that was exactly what the Hero wanted as well. It didn't matter, it was impossible.

The basilisk was everywhere. The dance so complex, so fast and tight, that Harry had no other choice than to move precisely according to the designated steps. And even that proved to be harder than anticipated, amidst the ever changing tides of the serpentine body.

And sometimes the head would lunge at him out of nowhere, giving him only a split second to decide in which direction to jump to evade it. The wrong choice would send him slamming into the body of the snake, possibly injuring dozens of dancers.

He had no control where he was going and little orientation in the blurry mass of dancers. Sometimes the basilisk brought him quite close to Voldemort, the nemeses only separated by the snake's tail, before Harry was forced to spin backwards, to the other end of the stage.

While he was twisting and spinning his way amongst the fast moving snake, Tom was standing motionless right next to the girl, still making no attempt whatsoever to help her. Instead he was watching him, flickering in and out of his sight between the basilisk.

Harry tried to keep his eyes on him as well, but the intricate dance claimed a great deal of his concentration. His heart hammering just as intensely as the music.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, _wrongly_ , Tom was in front of him.

Harry froze. Lord Voldemort wasn't supposed to be here, he wasn't supposed to move at all before the Hero had killed the basilisk.

There was no space for him to be here, in the middle of the moving lines of dancers.

"What are you doing?" Harry yelled at him over the music. He didn't know if he was asking about the girl or about him being here, ignoring the choreography.

Tom smirked, his expression thrilled. "Telling the story."

Harry could hear him, but he didn't understand. None of this made any sense and why wasn't Snape stopping the dance? Tom was clearly out of line.

Well if Tom was ignoring his role then so would he. Two dancers amidst the basilisk would end horribly either way, there was no more reason for him to follow his steps. So he started to sprint towards the girl, completely disregarding the choreography.

He hadn't made three steps before Tom grabbed him from behind, yanking him back just before he almost slammed into the snake's head.

There was a delighted chuckle in his ear. "Careful."

"Fuck you!" Harry snarled, twisting out of his grip and darting forwards once again.

A hand caught his right wrist and spun him around, again saving him just barely from colliding with the basilisk.

And Harry realized that Tom could predict the snake's movements entirely. Which should have been nearly impossible. This whole scene was too complex to allow such a thing.

The dance worked because every single dancer was doing exactly what the choreography dictated. Not one wrong step from anybody and suddenly everything ran smoothly. If everyone just concentrated on his own dance then everything worked out. The dance wasn't laid out for the dancers to look at each other's movements, after all everyone except two was literally blind.

But Tom seemed to be able to keep track of all the dancers, knowing exactly when which part of the snake would be where.

That must have allowed him to slip in in the first place. Because Harry _had_ been trying to get out, but had been forced to move in one particular way only, the dance giving him no other option. He know realized that he just couldn't see these paths, but Tom could.

And by simply being there, Tom had effectively destroyed the one path he knew.

The only one who could still get them through the dance uninjured was Tom. For Harry, robbed of his choreography, it was down to simple reaction. The snake was blind anyways and oblivious as they were, they would just keep dancing their part.

"Fuck you!" he cried again.

Tom seized his hips and hurled him out of the way as the snake's tail changed its direction.

"I'm afraid before you can save her, you'll have to finish the dance."

Harry whirled around, ready to argue, but the words got stuck in his mouth when he met the other's eyes. They were narrowed, cruel and _red._

This wasn't Tom, star pupil of Hogwarts. This was Lord Voldemort.

Harry looked around, seeing nothing but lines upon lines of basilisk, winding around them. He tried to remember where exactly in the scene they were, but it was hopeless. He knew the Hero's dance in his sleep, but there was no way he could predict everyone else's movements around him, no matter how many times he had seen it.

His breath came out in shallow pants now, his chest constricting in panic. Instead of trusting his instincts he momentarily froze completely and only Voldemort's playful intervention spun him out of the snake's path again.

"Idiot," the older boy sighed. "I _told_ you, all you have to do is react to me."

And then they were dancing.

Harry couldn't even care about the basilisk anymore, his whole attention was focused on not getting knocked down by Voldemort.

But even as he was jumping and twirling around the other, even as the basilisk drew closer circles, even as the snake's head missed him only by millimetres, a thought desperately clung to Harry's mind.

This had to stop. The girl needed help.

He saw a small opening appear in the lines of the basilisk's body and he darted through it. He could hear Voldemort hiss behind him, chasing after him. They were still surrounded by the snake, but he was one step closer to his goal.

He was about to break into another sprint, but Voldemort blocked his path. He attempted to twist around him, but had to change direction when the snake drew closer.

He was being grabbed again and tossed into the air, before he was shoved hard to the floor.

He jumped up and saw that he had been pushed away from Voldemort, creating a gap between them. Before the other could close in again, the snake's head charged at them from the left and effectively separated them.

On his own now, not only centimetres but whole meters away from where he was supposed to be, the whole choreography completely thrown off. He leapt and spun between the snake's tail, his body brushing the fabric of the costume. It felt like scales on his skin.

He was racing in-between the lines, the large animal feeling more like a maze than anything. A maze that moved constantly. Still, there had to be an exit.

At last he was alone, away from Voldemort. Now that he had fought with both the basilisk _and_ Voldemort, evading the snake alone seemed easy in comparison.

He chased after the snake's tail and followed it while twisting out of the way from the rest of the body, until finally one last leap landed him next to the girl.

He skidded on the floor in his rush to get to her.

"Gin-..! Not Ginny. H-hello?!"

He palmed at her head, not caring about his sweaty hands. He couldn't find any blood, but she also didn't react, no matter how hard he shook her. Her face was unnaturally pale.

"Oh god, please don't be dead, please-…"

Something hard collided with him, knocking him a few paces over the floor. The basilisk trembled, then swayed violently before tipping over to its left side. Synchronously, not accidentally.

A part of him registered that this would have been the exact moment to shove the sword up its throat.

A larger part of him didn't care, entirely distracted by the figure that was charging at him.

His first instinct was to run away but then something lying on the floor caught his attention. The diary.

He lunged towards it, but Voldemort was faster, intercepting him in the air and slamming him to the ground.

His vision turned fleetingly black as he coughed for air.

The other stepped over him, but Harry grabbed his ankle, making him tumble. He pushed himself off the floor and could finally snatch the diary. With trembling hands he ripped it apart.

He could hear Voldemort gasp and knew it was over. The world was tilting in his mind from dizziness as he crawled towards the motionless body laying besides him.

She was still a deadly pale. Harry frowned confused. This wasn't supposed to happen, it was over, she was meant to wake up now.

Why wasn't this working? Voldemort was dead wasn't he?

He looked up, blinking from the sharp pain in his skull. Voldemort was still standing, barely, shaking with every step he took towards the edge of the stage.

_Stage._

Harry blinked again and suddenly it was _Tom_ , his face locked in agony as he clutched his chest.

Shell-shocked, Harry looked at the torn book in his hands, his eyes widening in horror.

His skull was throbbing, allowing him not one single clear thought and Harry felt tears well up in his eyes from the sheer confusion and helplessness he felt.

The world seemed to forcefully jerk back into place, but it made even less sense than before.

Panicked, he looked up at the only other person who had just experienced what he had.

He watched just in time to see Tom fall head first from the stage.

Harry screamed.

.

* * *

.

"What the hell?"

"He's hyperventilating!"

"Get the nurse!"

"She's not moving!"

"Does he have asthma?"

"Who screamed?!"

"Move away you idiots!" Severus pushed two of the seventh years away to get to the heaving boy on the floor. "Give him some space!"

He snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face. "Potter. Hey, Potter! Look at me!"

The dark haired boy didn't listen, his green eyes stared unseeingly ahead of him, his breathing too shallow and too fast.

He was clearly having a panic attack. The question was _why?!_

Severus silently cursed Minerva for pulling him away from his observations.

He hadn't watched for a few minutes and suddenly the whole stage was in chaos. Initially he had thought that the basilisk must have crashed, but no, the snake dancers were all fine. All the others were the problem.

The students crowded around them, stepping on each other's toes to get a better look. The students that had been occupied with the house dance had stopped as well, looking uncertainly up at the stage.

"Draco!" he snapped irritated.

He didn't give any further instructions, but the boy had enough sense in him to understand. He stepped between the crowd and Potter and started pushing them away, giving them some much needed space.

Severus firmly cupped the boy's cheek and forced him to look at him. "Potter, you're having a panic attack. I need you to take deep breaths," he instructed calmly.

The boy took one shaky breath before he started to mumble incoherently. "Please, don't make me, I can't do it- please. Tom."

He was looking around frantically, clearly searching for something. Severus had no idea what the boy was on about, but for now his priority was to calm him down, so he kept his questions for later.

"Somebody get me Mr Riddle!" he demanded, holding the now shaking boy back when he tried to scramble away.

The twins came running through the crowd of snake dancers, their faces serious for a change.

"Professor! It's Tom, he collapsed."

"What do you mean he collapsed?" Severus asked incredulously.

"We saw him falling from the stage, but that's not really the problem…"

"His wrist it's…" he looked to his twin in search for words. "Well, cut."

"He's bleeding heavily. We think he already passed out from blood loss."

Tom Riddle falling off the stage? Impossible.

"I killed him," Potter whispered, "Oh god I killed him- I didn't mean to-…I didn't know!"

The boy was not calming down at all.

"Don't be absurd-…" Severus started, then broke off as his eyes landed on the destroyed diary.

_Impossible._

.

* * *

.

"The girl was having a diabetic shock. By the time Poppy managed to raise her blood sugar it was almost too late. We don't know if there is any permanent damage yet, but she should make a full recovery."

"She was diabetic?" Albus asked, frowning worriedly.

"No, not that she knew. But increased physical activity could lead to an increase in Insulin. Her friends say she never missed a meal, so this shouldn't have been a problem."

"Well we should be glad Poppy got to her in time. I'm sure she will examine the girl thoroughly until we are sure it won't happen again."

"There is another…troubling thing that was reported to me," Snape continued seriously, not sharing the headmaster's optimism. "Penelope Clearwater claims that someone stole her medication earlier this week. She had to take Insulin injections regularly since she had been a child."

Albus looked at him over his glasses, half amused, half alarmed. "You think they are linked? Severus you can't be serious."

"I'm merely pointing out the possibilities. We have no way of knowing how the excess of Insulin got into her blood," Snape responded crisply.

Albus sighed. "The others?"

"Mr Riddle has regained consciousness after receiving some blood. He will need stitches, but is otherwise perfectly fit."

"He must have cut himself while falling off the stage. What an unfortunate accident."

Severus' lips thinned. "Yes very…unfortunate."

The headmaster seemed to pay no attention to his doubtful tone. "And how is our newest student?"

"Poppy gave him a mild sedative to calm him. He seems coherent. For now."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "For now?"

"When I got to him he was completely delusional."

"I'm sure that-…"

"Albus," Snape insisted. "He was utterly lost."

The headmaster said nothing for a while, before he gently shook his head. "It is not uncommon for even experienced dancers to suffer the same emotions as their roles. You see them cry at the end of their performances more often than not."

"I believe this is something else, more extreme. The role clearly affects Mr Potter mentally too much. He worked himself into a frenzy during a practice, Albus. Imagine what will happen on the real stage, where emotions are amplified per default."

"Now, now my boy, let's not jump to conclusions here. Mr Potter just saw two of his fellow students lose consciousness. Surely that was the main issue of his panic. You make it sound like he is unstable."

Albus had expected to coax Severus' trademark sneer out of him, but the man remained stoic.

"It is not Mr Potter's sanity that I doubt, Albus."

Dumbledore frowned in real thought. "I'm afraid I don't understand…"

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but something stopped him. No, the older man would never believe him, it was too absurd. The more he thought about it, the less he believed in it himself. Yet a nagging gut feeling persisted.

"It's the other students as well," he replied instead. "They are taking their roles much more serious than any of the seniors before them."

"They are studying their characters in depth, we should rejoice to have such dedicated students."

"Miss Black shoved Mr Black from two flights of stairs, claiming that they were only practicing act 5," Snape reminded him intently.

"Yes I heard. Poppy assured me Mr Black had nothing more than a few bruises to show."

Snape shook his head. "This is getting out of control. Slowly, maybe, but steadily."

The headmaster regarded him for another long while before he nodded reluctantly.

"Then we need to talk to them. Teach them how to separate the feelings they feel for a fictional story from the reality. Especially with Mr Potter. Make sure he only loses himself in the Hero's character while he's dancing."

Snape still wasn't certain what had happened during rehearsals, but he had a strong foreboding feeling that talking wouldn't solve their problem.

"We shouldn't have chosen 'A Prophecy'. The whole school setting it's…too close to reality."

Dumbledore chuckled. "They are here to learn dance, not magic. I'm sure they've noticed."

Snape's sneer finally returned. "Potter ripped a book apart and thought it had killed Mr Riddle. I don't think we should take this lightly."

"And yet you told me you don't doubt his sanity," Dumbledore reminded him curiously. "Is there something else you wanted to tell me?"

Again Severus came close to responding, again he decided against it.

"Nothing," he responded at last. His face remained expressionless and the hesitation had only been there for a second.

But Albus had known the man since he had started in Hogwart's first division. Still, he knew nothing good would come out of pushing Severus Snape.

"Don't feel responsible for today, Severus. None of it was your fault."

"Of course not," Snape sneered. "Not even I would have believed these dunderheads would manage so much chaos in a handful of minutes."

Dumbledore nodded appeasingly.

But as soon as Snape left, his calm expression gave way to one of gentle sorrow.

"I know you won't find sleep tonight, my boy. Your worries are stronger than your sneer," he whispered into the empty room.

.

* * *

.

"What happened, Mr Riddle?" Severus asked, his eyes fixed on the students face, searching for any unusual change in the boy's expression.

He was sitting on a chair right next to Tom's bed in the hospital wing.

Tom tilted his head on the pillow to look at him. "I don't think I remember much professor. I must have hit my head pretty hard."

"It was quite the fall," Snape agreed.

"Yes, quite. I was just suddenly much closer to the edge than I was supposed to be. The fight with the Hero - I mean, Harry - was much more intense than what I've been practicing."

"For both of you, evidently," Severus remarked drily.

Tom's expression was perfectly concerned. "Yes I heard, how is he? And the girl? I'm sorry, I should have noticed something. I was standing right beside her after all. But, well, I thought she was pretending to be unconscious like normal."

"You couldn't have known Mr Riddle. And they are both fine after some help from Madame Pomfrey," Severus assured him.

He watched as the concern left Tom's face, but a troubled expression still lingered. By all standards his reactions seemed perfectly normal. Then why couldn't Severus shake off this nagging feeling?

He chose his next words with caution. "That is quite the deep cut you managed to…acquire."

Tom smiled at him with just the right mixture of regret and nonchalance. "I must have cut myself while falling off the stage. Maybe on the railing of the stairs, or the edge itself? I really don't know. It could have even happened while we were still dancing. Paper can be surprisingly sharp."

"An accident then." He managed to make it sound like a statement, but the question still clung to it.

For the first time, Severus thought he could see a flicker of wariness in Tom's eyes.

"Of course."

Severus sat up a bit straighter and changed to a more business-like tone. "Mr Riddle, I am assuming that the immense pressure that comes with filling Salazar's legacy is constantly on your min-…"

Tom's laugh interrupted him. "You think I'm unstable? Please professor, I assure you I don't concern myself with other people's expectations."

"You are quite possibly the last person who would crumble under pressure," Snape agreed. "Which is why I find myself so puzzled. Do you realize you could have died? You cut your artery."

The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only indication for Tom's annoyance. " _I_ didn't cut anything professor."

"Of course not," Severus quickly amended. "But you are a perfectionist Mr Riddle."

Tom's expression was almost curious now. "You make that sound like an accusation."

Snape ignored his student and backtracked a bit. "You are taking this very calmly."

"I don't dwell on what could have been, I focus on what is. I'm feeling fine. In fact, Madam Pomfrey cleared me for classes the day after tomorrow," Tom informed him, smiling again.

It grated on Severus' nerves. Tom's reactions were exactly what one expected. In fact, he was almost too predictable.

He made extra sure that his face remained blank. "And what if Potter isn't there?"

As expected, the concern was immediately back. "Is he hurt?"

"Not physically, no," Severus answered pointedly.

Tom seemed to understand his implications. "Look professor, I don't know what happened, so I can't really judge the situation. However, I am an excellent judge of character and I know Harry is mentally much stronger than you seem to think."

"You are quick to defend him," Snape remarked.

Tom shrugged. "I am the one that wanted him as the Hero."

And _that_ was exactly why Severus couldn't shake off the feeling that something was inherently wrong with this whole situation.

"What did you see in him at the auditions?"

Tom's smile didn't waver. "I saw that he is the perfect fit."

"Because of his dancing skills, or because of his mental endurance?" he asked warily.

The smile vanished, but just when Severus thought he could glimpse behind it, Tom's face turned completely impassive.

"Because he will understand."

After another few minutes of meaningless conversation where Severus played the part of the dutiful teacher and Tom in turn was his usual fautless self, Snape left the hospital wing.

He was still deep in thought while he walked through Hogwarts and distracted as he was, his feet carried him to the headmaster's office on their own volition.

He frowned at the door, once again debating with himself if he should tell Albus after all.

He rigidly turned around and walked back to his quarters. There was no way he could tell him his absurd notion. No way he could ever explain what was stuck in his mind with irrational certainty.

That when Harry Potter destroyed Voldemort's soul piece, Tom Riddle attempted suicide.

.

* * *

.

Harry rose from his drowsy state to find himself laying in his bed at the dorms. Two identical faces stared down at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living!" George grinned.

"And to the land of the un-drugged," Fred added cheerfully.

"Ugh," was all Harry managed to reply.

"Yeah, he's fine," Fred assured his twin.

"Back to his usual ineloquent self," George nodded.

"Come on!" Harry groaned. "Give me _some_ time to recover."

They continued with their teasing for a while and Harry couldn't be more thankful for it. He knew they wanted answers, but they made no attempt to push him. The problem was, he had no answers. He had no idea what happened.

Even after the irrational panic had subsided, he was left with an uneasy feeling.

It had felt so real. That was all he could say for sure.

There was also the problem that apart from Harry, no one had seen Tom move in any way outside the choreography. Apparently while Harry danced with him amongst the snake, for the rest of the world he had been standing right where he was supposed to.

He _needed_ to speak with Tom, or he would definitely go crazy. But they had only told him that he was fine and then ordered him to stay in bed.

Harry didn't believe them. He was most certainly not _fine._ Tom Riddle did not fall from stages.

Their conversations was interrupted by a knock on the door. Harry wasn't sure who he had expected, but certainly not Draco Malfoy. Even the twins looked surprised.

"I came to inquire about your head," the blond boy said, standing awkwardly at the end of his bed. "I understand I knocked you down pretty hard with the basilisk head."

"It's fine, it was my fault anyway. I was standing at the wrong place."

"I see…" Draco made no further inclination to speak, but he also didn't move to leave. It was clear he wanted to talk to Harry, but had hoped for a more private setting.

The twins seemed to notice his reluctance as well. It _would_ have been polite to just excuse themselves and leave of course, but the twins didn't believe in politeness.

"Brother, we are intruding," Fred declared pompously.

"Oh my, whatever should we do?"

"Well, we could leave," Fred suggested. "Or we could stay and pretend we didn't notice anything."

Draco was doing his best to remain impassive, but there was an angry red blush forming on his pale cheeks.

"Oh! I know!" George exclaimed enthusiastically. "We could _pretend_ to leave and then listen on the door!"

"Guys…" Harry warned tiredly.

It was obvious Draco was reluctant to be here in the first place and Harry didn't want to make this any more awkward.

"Alright, alright," they made disappointed and left, hopefully without staying at the door.

"Sorry about these idiots. They are always like that…Though I suppose you know that already." Harry tried a smile.

Draco still didn't seem to find his voice.

"Err, my head is really fine," Harry assured him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Most students believe you're asthmatic. The teachers didn't contradict them."

Harry blinked. He could hear that Draco was trying to imply something, but he couldn't figure out what. "Uhm…"

Draco looked slightly exasperated. "Look Potter, I know this wasn't an asthma attack. But if even the teachers think that's the better truth then you should take it."

"You…want me to say that…I'm asthmatic?" Harry asked bewildered.

"It's better than the alternative, is it?"

Harry laughed in disbelief. "What would you care?"

"My mother thinks I'm dead and that my father is plotting world domination. With professor Snape by the way."

Harry stared at him. "W-what? I'm sorry..?"

Draco sighed. "I know what crazy looks like Potter."

"I'm not-…"

"Don't finish that sentence," Draco interrupted. "For your own good, don't."

"I can't really decide if you want to help me or if you're here to gloat," Harry frowned.

"Have you ever heard about my mother?"

"You mean about her…mental illness? No," Harry answered honestly.

"You heard about my family, surely?"

Harry snorted. "Of course."

Now Draco definitely looked exasperated. "You're not very good at this are you? There's a reason why almost no one knows about it. Society has placed a major stigma upon mental illness. Tell them you can't walk and they're all helpful. Tell them you're insane and they're ready to burn you alive."

"Ahh," made Harry. "That's why you want me to tell I'm asthmatic?"

Draco shrugged. "It's your decision."

"Why are you helping me Draco?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Well we can't perform without a Hero now can we?" the other replied nonchalantly.

Harry knew that wasn't his real reason, but he decided not to push him. "Don't worry, I'm not-…Well, I don't _think_ I'm crazy. I had a panic attack, there's a difference."

At least there would be, if there was any _cause_ for the panic.

"My mother has moments of clarity sometimes," Draco told him. "I hate those moments. For her it's like the world has just been erased and another has replaced it. She's completely lost in between."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like how well he could understand Draco's words.

"You want to know why I'm here? I recognized you're scream. Mother screams when reality and her delusions blur together." Draco looked at him intently. "You sounded exactly like her."

Harry kept silent, because really, what did one say to that?

"Want to know the best part?" Draco asked drily.

Harry just looked at him warily.

"We can pinpoint exactly when my mother became mentally ill. She just cracked. Over the course of a few months. It happened about a decade ago, you know, around the time of Grindelwald's failure."

Harry might be bad at understanding Draco's subtle hints, but even he knew what he was supposed to ask now.

"What happened?"

Draco gave him a wry smile. "She danced in 'A Prophecy'."

 

 

 

 

 


	7. When Delusion merges with Deception

 

 

 

 

Harry spent the rest of the evening obediently resting in bed, waiting for the sedatives to get out of his system.

After an hour it became clear that this was quite possibly the worst thing he could do. His thoughts were running wild and even when he made a conscious effort to stop thinking, scenes from the rehearsal flashed across his eyes.

Tom was kept in Hogwarts' hospital wing for the night and the quiet in their shared room did nothing to help Harry's racing mind.

After a few more hours he couldn't take it anymore. They had told him to rest, but he didn't _need_ rest. He wasn't injured, wasn't even tired, and there was only one way to clear his mind. By moving.

It was already past midnight when he snuck out of the dorms and into Hogwarts. He entered the next best unlocked studio he could find and stared at himself in the mirror that covered one side of the room.

He didn't bother to turn on the light. It was almost a full moon tonight and the milky light passed through the room's window just fine. Besides, he didn't really need light for dancing.

It was quiet, he was alone, he had a perfect room to dance, he had a very good reason to dance, he _wanted_ to dance and-… He wasn't fucking moving.

Harry scowled at his reflection. The reflection scowled right back.

He huffed exasperated and turned himself so he wasn't facing the mirror.

He hated it anyways. They were there to show you every tiny mistake in your posture, always reminding you that you were not yet perfect and would never be. Sure, a mirror was a very useful tool for a dancer. They were used to recognize and correct their mistakes, improving the dancer's skill considerably over time. Most of the dance students at Hogwarts were almost obsessed with the mirror, to the point where they literally couldn't look anywhere else while dancing.

Harry wasn't used to look at himself dancing. He found it distracting and tried to avoid looking at them during classes. They might be useful to improve his technique, but they were pointless during a real dance.

He fixed the blank wall instead, took a calming breath and-… Still wasn't moving.

There he was, standing inside a room that was made for dancing, in one of the world's most prestigious dancing schools and he couldn't bloody dance. Maybe Draco was right, maybe he was completely insane.

He glanced outside the window and watched the moon disappear behind a cloud. The clouds were moving rather fast, it looked like it would be a stormy night. He wished he could feel the wind and dance with it.

And suddenly it hit him.

This room was too still. Too small, too spotless, too bleak, too wealthy, too perfect. He had dreamed to have such a room while he was cramped up in his tiny and rather filthy apartment, but now all he wanted was to leave. The walls were suffocating.

He all but sprinted out of the school.

There were more clouds now and the wind grew stronger. It would probably start raining soon.

By the time he arrived at the park he visited so often with Ron, a nearby church struck 2 o'clock.

A growling thunder rolled over the sky and the run-down playground was squeaking in the wind. Harry impatiently slipped out of his shoes. The long, unkempt grass was moist with dew and cool under his naked feet. He held his arms out like an open embrace and felt the wind playing with his clothes and hair.

He smiled. Now _this_ , this was perfect.

He began moving and the first raindrops moved with him.

All his worries, thoughts and doubts were instantly washed away. It wasn't even a real, fluid dance. He was more tumbling than anything, sometimes gracelessly stumbling on the uneven ground, but he was grinning from pure joy because the wind stumbled with him.

Snape would probably faint at the sight, but for the first time after joining Hogwarts Harry felt completely and utterly free.

Locked away in Hogwarts spotless building, staring at sparkling mirrors and lined up in neat rows with the others, he had forgotten how this felt. The electricity in the sky seemed to pass through his body.

The grass under his feet, the rustling leaves, the shadows all around him, the lightning that raced through the sky and his soaked clothes that clung to him… Harry never wanted to stop moving. The night blurred as he spun and he closed his eyes, intent to just feel.

There was a ghostly faint touch on his outstretched arm. A second one on his opposite shoulder. He followed it without thinking, simply moved with the sensation as if it were hands.

The touch became stronger. His eyes snapped open in surprise. It _was_ a hand.

And suddenly his heart wasn't the only one beating in the stormy night. Harry could feel it with his whole body as another one pressed against him from behind, effortlessly copying his movements.

Soft lips almost touched his ear. "Keep dancing."

He froze, instantly brought back to reality. His soaked clothes felt rather uncomfortable now and he shivered as he stumbled a step back and turned.

"T-Tom!"

The older student reluctantly let go of him as he stepped back and sighed. "I told you to keep dancing."

"What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be in the hospital! You're completely soaked, you don't even have a jacket! Did you walk here? Are you crazy? What about-…"

Tom's laugh interrupted him, looking positively delighted. "Now who's mothering who?"

Harry took some deep breaths to get himself under control. He felt slightly lightheaded from the abrupt disruption of his dance and his thoughts were scrambling all over the place.

He had planned to search for Tom as soon as possible tomorrow, but now that he was here, he suddenly couldn't remember any of the questions he so desperately needed answers for.

Tom seemed to take his silence the wrong way. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. We could have danced together."

"In the cold rain?" Harry asked sceptically.

"You did it."

"That's-…I mean, that was…" Harry trailed off helplessly searching for a way to describe his sudden need to get out.

"I love your dancing."

That really shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did.

Tom had all but blackmailed the school to let him dance, so obviously he must have liked his audition but… Harry had never spared a thought about what Tom might think of his skills. He knew the teachers opinions, he considered the judging stares from the other students, but Tom somehow had never crossed his mind.

The sudden declaration threw him completely off guard. "I- uhh, t-thanks..? I _do_ try to do the Hero justice you know..."

"No, I love _your_ dancing," Tom emphasized, "It is quite unlike anything I've seen. It's still ballet but so…wild."

"Err, well I've never been trained so…that makes sense I suppose?" Harry mumbled.

"You shouldn't have to limit yourself to the Hero's steps. You should allow yourself to just…be him."

Harry's mental alarm bells went off all at once.

"Is that why you stepped into the basilisk?" he asked startled, shoving him even further away. "Is that why you ignored her blood?! Is that why you-…" he glanced at Tom's bandaged wrist and gulped.

Tom looked slightly taken aback. "No silly. What are you talking about? There wasn't any blood."

"W-what? But-but you-…"

"Are you alright? Actually, shouldn't you be resting in bed as well?"

"I…Don't try to change the-… I saw…"

"The girl had a diabetic shock. There's no blood involved in that."

Harry chewed on his lips nervously. He had fucking seen it. Was he truly losing his mind?

"You were there though, right? You ignored the choreography! You…you _did_ step into the snake didn't you?"

Tom shrugged lightly. "It just felt more natural than waiting on the side. I couldn't imagine Voldemort to just lay back and let the Hero have his way again."

Harry released a long breath. So he might have hallucinated the blood. At least Tom didn't deny being there. That would have been really fucked up.

"So this is where you go to clear your mind then?" Tom asked finally and looked around the dark park, the water still pouring down at them.

Harry remained silent, still mulling over what happened. Tom seemed to take it as his cue to pick up their previous conversation. "Your dancing is different if you're out here. It's like you're in your element. Unrestricted."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah it feels different. Freer."

"Maybe one day I'll show you mine."

Harry perked up at that, eyes wide. He had never thought about that either. If the firm teaching felt restrictive to him, why wouldn't it do so for others? Tom was well known for having a perfect technique, copying the teachers impeccably. But what about outside of the classroom? Did he let go? Stop being the perfect student? Who was the real Tom?

And Harry was struck with the thought that he might have caught a glimpse of him already. He saw him every time he slipped into Voldemort. The perfect student that suddenly disregarded his steps, acting on impulse instead.

_It just felt more natural…_

Gods, Voldemort wasn't supposed to feel natural.

"You're awfully quiet today, are you sure you're alright?" Tom interrupted his thoughts.

"No I'm not," Harry hissed back crossly. "You scared me okay? How did you cut your wrist anyway? And don't give me that bullshit about accidentally falling from the stage, I don't believe it for a second."

"You want to talk _here_? Really?" Tom dubiously looked up at the stormy sky as another flash of lightning illuminated the heavy rain briefly. "I'm injured remember?"

"You hypocrite!" Harry snorted, " _I_ told you you shouldn't be here. Bloody decide."

"Come on let's get back, it's cold."

Harry muttered something under his breath about changing the subject again, but he was shivering as well so he didn't object and followed him back.

Maybe the middle of the night wasn't the best time to talk about such things. But Tom wouldn't be able to evade him forever. They were roommates after all.

.

* * *

 

.

Harry tried his best to ignore the insisting shaking and drew his blanket closer around himself.

"We will slap you, you know."

"It's for your own good."

"Snape will probably storm in here himself in a few minutes."

That effectively woke him up. "What?"

"Oh it speaks!" Fred exclaimed delighted.

Harry squinted at the bright sunlight that shone through the dorm window. "What are you doing here?" he asked grouchily, feeling like he hadn't slept at all.

"What are _we_ doing here?" the twins echoed incredulously.

"Well," George began, "We were in our first morning class, you know, like students usually are at this time…"

Harry's eyes widened in horror and frantically searched for a clock.

"…And then James barges into the 6th division, asks if anyone knows what your dorm number is," Fred continued.

"He looked a bit pale the poor lad," his twin added.

"You see, apparently _someone_ hadn't shown up to Snape's class."

Harry found his alarm clock half buried under his pillow. 9:45. He had missed almost a whole lesson.

"You haven't seen him livid yet Harry, he does that thing with his eyes…"

Fred shuddered. "It's fucking scary."

"So being the perfect gentlemen that we are, we offered to assist poor James in his task."

Harry jumped out of his bed and grabbed his sports bag. "Yeah enough talking let's go."

"Aren't you the eager one today," they grinned and followed him out of the dorms.

Harry ran all the way to Hogwarts and up the large staircase to the higher floors where his class was.

"See you later," he waved the twins goodbye in front of their classroom.

"Any last words?" Fred yelled after him.

"What do you want on your tombstone?" George shouted.

Harry stuck his tongue out at them in response.

He sprinted down the rest of the corridor and was ready to barge into his classroom, but found the door locked. He remembered Snape doing that in his last lesson as well. He rattled at it some more, hoping someone would notice the ruckus.

He didn't have to wait long. The handle turned and Harry steeled himself for the worst.

Snape only had to glimpse at his tousled appearance before the trademark sneer appeared on his face.

"Potter, how generous of you to grace us with your presence."

The door behind Snape remained still half closed, concealing them from the class. This seemed odd to Harry, since he had thought that surely Snape would want to humiliate him in front of the class.

"I'm sorry sir, I-…"

"Do you want to dance?"

Dread settled in his stomach. The man wouldn't actually kick him out?

"Y-yes, of course I want to dance. Sir."

Snape blinked at him then scowled some more. "No you idiotic boy, do you _want_ to dance? Now. Or are you…unwell?"

"No I'm fine," he assured him hastily. "I wasn't the one getting injured. I just overslept, I'm sorry, it had nothing to do with that."

Good gods, just how bad had it been if even Snape looked at him like he'd collapse any second?

Snape gave him a long, scrutinizing look, before he opened the door wider to let him in.

"We are still practicing the _pas de deux_. Since your partner is currently indisposed, you can use the rest of the class to train at the barre. Your technique could certainly use it."

Harry sighed defeated, but walked up to the barre obediently, not wanting to aggravate the man further.

The other students continued practicing their duets while he went through the strenuous exercises Snape had given him.

He performed the repeating motions while he forced himself to stare at the clean mirror in front of him. The controlled movements felt even more constrictive than before last night.

Ugh, he really wasn't sure he could stand this for the next months.

He let his eyes wander to the window. The weather seemed to have cleared up completely. That was too bad, he missed the storm already. It had reminded him what dancing was all about for him.

Snape approached him from behind, a scowl on his face. He grabbed Harry's head and forced him to turn around.

"Keep your head straight, see what it's doing to your shoulders here? And look into the mirror boy! A blind man could see your feet aren't pointed."

Harry grimaced but followed his instructions.

Snape continued to watch him for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you talk to Mr Riddle?"

Harry glanced at him briefly in surprise, but continued with his exercise. He considered lying to the man, but decided against it. He highly doubted Snape would buy it. "Not really. We were caught by the heavy rain last…uh, evening."

"Rain?" Snape asked incredulously. "You'd have had to travel out of London to encounter any rain Potter. It was a clear night. And I dare say Poppy kept an eye on Mr Riddle throughout the entire time. So unless you visited him in the Hospital wing I doubt you've seen him."

Snape could have punched him in the stomach it would have had the same effect on him. The air in his lungs was literally knocked out of him.

He had felt the rain on his skin, he had danced with the wind, he had met Tom, he couldn't have just imagined it-… He couldn't breathe.

Harry abruptly let go of the barre and stormed out of the classroom.

"Where do you think you're-…Potter!"

 

* * *

 

Harry ignored the indignant protests of the nurse at the door and stalked right past her. Luckily there was only one bed occupied, so he knew exactly which curtains he could tear open.

"Were you or were you not at the park last night?"

Tom looked only a little startled by Harry's sudden appearance.

"Good morning to you too," he greeted amused, slightly adjusting his posture on the bed so he sat more upright.

"Answer me!" Harry could barely keep himself from screaming.

Tom blinked and regarded him coolly. "Of course I was. I met you there. Were you still half asleep?"

Harry allowed himself to take a calming breath. "Did it rain?"

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, still sounding mildly amused.

"Answer me!"

Tom frowned, apparently finally understanding that Harry was serious. "It was pouring," he confirmed evenly. "I had to steal another set of clothes when I got back or Madam Pomfrey would have known immediately."

Harry sagged in relief and let himself fall down onto the chair next to his bed. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd imagined the whole thing.

"Are you sure you're alright Harry? Maybe you should talk to Pomfrey? She could give you something to calm your nerves."

Harry laughed hollowly. "You can just write me up for a madhouse and spare you the trouble."

"You're still shaken from yesterday, I get it. Sometimes the dance consumes you. The others might not understand but I do."

"Yeah the thing is I was seeing things _before_ the damn dance even started. I saw blood. On your hands. It looked fucking real. And when I destroyed that book I thought… It's ridiculous, but I thought you were dying."

"Well I was, technically," Tom said and waved with his bandaged wrist.

"That wasn't me, that was you," Harry scowled.

"Excuse me?" Tom's voice dropped from nonchalant to deadly in a split second.

"Don't give me that crap about an accident, it's not possible to cut yourself at the edge of the stage and I would have seen it if you'd cut yourself with the paper. I asked you what you were doing during the dance and you answered with 'I'm telling the story'."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "I was referring to my ignoring the choreography and acting out what I felt was Voldemort's part."

"Or maybe you were referring to the dying girl on the stage and your near death experience after the destruction of the horcrux. Seems bloody close to the story if you ask me," Harry huffed.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yes _of course_. You found out my ingenious plan. I hunted you down and made you agree to play the Hero so I could ruin the performance myself. I overdosed the girl with insulin - without her noticing mind you - then flung myself off the stage and landed in the Hospital. At the end you were supposed to kill me while I was trying to take over the world. No one should have ever known, what gave it away?"

"W-well, if you put it that way…"

"During act four I will require a ritual with your blood to come back to life," Tom deadpanned.

Harry grinned sheepishly and scratched his head. "Okay, okay, I get it!"

"You will also have to fight dragons. They are real I'm afraid."

"Stop it!"

"Snape kills Dumbledore."

"He's not even in the performance!" Harry was snorting with laughter at this point.

It seemed to release some of the tension that had built up in him since yesterday.

He sighed in relief. "Sorry my thoughts are messed up right now."

Tom stared at him contemplatively. "You never asked."

"Asked what?"

"Why me?" Tom cocked his head curiously. "You asked if there wasn't anyone else who could play the Hero, you asked why you should do it, you asked why it was so important to me. But you never actually asked why it had to be you."

He had asked himself that of course. Many times actually, since the day Tom had shown up at his apartment. Somehow he hadn't been able to bring up the question though.

"Tell me then."

"Hmm. Maybe later," Tom answered casually and readjusted his pillow.

"Tom," he groaned exasperated.

"Well technically you still didn't ask."

"Fine. Why me?"

The older student was silent for a while and Harry half expected him to not answer after all, but was proven otherwise.

"Because you _dance_. You don't just imitate, you don't just follow the steps you learned, you _become_ them. They say I can't dance with a partner because I'm too good, what kind of ridiculous explanation is that?"

Tom had talked about almost the exact same thing last night. Becoming the role… Red eyes flashed in his memory, when Voldemort had suddenly stood in front of him where he wasn't supposed to be.

Harry's eyes widened. "You don't follow the choreography. You don't-… They just _think_ you're flawlessly copying all the techniques, but you don't. You're simply dancing the part."

Tom smirked derisively. "They don't notice it. I can do the complete opposite of what the choreography dictates and they look at me and won't notice it.

"That's what you did in the rehearsal isn't it? That's why no one believes me when I say you were in the basilisk!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "How is that even possible?"

Tom shrugged. "People see what they want to see. I _am_ good. I can play the required role so perfectly the steps don't matter anymore. If I'm supposed to be Voldemort then the people will see Voldemort, regardless of the choreography. The problem starts when I need to have a partner. The other dancer will obviously have to see the difference and can't react to it, because they only ever follow the steps."

Harry was distantly aware that he was slightly gaping at him while he tried to digest what Tom was suggesting.

"I did it at the auditions too you know," Tom continued. "And you didn't even notice it, you just kept dancing. Because you were in it as well. You react impulsively, naturally and that's why I can dance with you."

Harry shook himself out of his stupor and chuckled drily. "Considering you landed in the hospital and I was filled up with sedatives, I'm not so sure your theory is right."

"Yes, we might need to work on that," Tom conceded nonchalantly.

He glared at him. "You could have told me you know."

"I was half convinced you knew instinctively."

Harry crossed his arms in front of him defensively. "Well I didn't. And if I hadn't experienced it first-hand then I wouldn't believe you a single word."

"You should work on your trust issues as well."

"I don't have trust issues!" he hissed indignantly. "With anyone but you that is."

Tom had no time to answer as the curtains around them were parted briskly and a very stern looking nurse glared down at Harry.

"So you really are here Mr Potter! If there is anything I can do to help you, I will do my very best but I must ask you to leave this bed immediately. The patient needs to rest! Especially since he so stubbornly wants to dance tomorrow already."

She scowled at Tom for a change, and her expression only softened somewhat at his charming smile.

Harry took the chance to slip out before she could give him a longer lecture.

He didn't know what to think anymore. Tom's explanation made sense to him, but…it was still crazy. Then again, it probably wasn't any crazier than losing himself in a dance. And Harry knew exactly just how easily that happened to him.

And that sneaky bastard had evaded his question about his cut _again_. It only add to his suspicion that there was something fishy about that injury.

A big clock in the hallway reminded him that he had effectively missed the rest of Snape's class. He had a feeling he wouldn't get off the hook so easily this time.

Lunchtime had just started and he considered searching for Snape and apologize directly. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. He decided against it because he feared interrupting the man's break would probably only land him in more trouble.

So he headed roughly in the direction of the great hall. Roughly, because Hogwarts was a very big complex and Harry took a few wrong turns during his trip. This led him close past the big studio where rehearsals took place and he stopped curiously when he saw it wasn't empty.

Well it was almost empty.

Granger was sitting crouched down on the floor, a set of headphones pressed tightly to her ears, her face locked in a mixture of concentration and frustration.

Harry really didn't want to break her concentration, but her tightly scrunched up face and her crouched posture didn't exactly look healthy to him.

It turned out he didn't need to decide. She suddenly looked up, noticing him standing at the door.

"Err, sorry," Harry apologized, for she still looked quite frustrated.

She sighed and took of her headphones. "No it's fine. Maybe a break will help me."

"Are you composing for the performance?"

She finally got out of her crouched position and stretched. "Not really, just listening to some records of the orchestra."

"I thought they were doing fine," Harry said carefully, curious as to why she would look so upset while listening to it.

"Yes they think so as well," she sighed. "There's that one part during the Slytherin house dance where the flutes _and_ the cellos are off and it's really bugging me."

"So? You're the conductor right? Make them change it."

"I correct them every single time but they won't listen. They say it sounds just fine to them." She threw her hair back agitated. "According to some of them women wouldn't even be allowed in the orchestra, much less conducting it. It's ridiculous! I'm so glad Dumbledore went ahead and let you dance the Hero by the way. He really fights against the conservatives, we need more people like him. He holds such a powerful position as well, he could actually change their views. Sorry, I'm ranting aren't I? I'm Hermione Granger by the way. You're Harry Potter aren't you? I saw your audition."

Harry was fascinated by the sheer amount of words that poured out of her.

"I- yeah, hi. Well if it makes any difference I thought you're really good. Are you sure you're not just obsessing over it because of the pressure?"

"Maybe," she groused reluctantly. "I was trying to pinpoint the exact mistake they're making, but honestly I'm not even sure anymore if they really are off. I'm apparently the only one that hears it, I've got perfect hearing you see. I'm still trying to decide if it's a curse or a blessing. I might just imagine the whole thing."

"Well I can't seem to separate reality from delusions anymore and I might have started to hallucinate. I think I saw Tom completely disregard the choreography, but I was the only one that saw it and I thought he confessed he did it, but now I'm not sure if I have dreamt that confession."

Her eyebrows rose sceptically but she had a small smile on her lips. "And you're talking to me about pressure?"

"Point taken," he laughed. "But seriously, if you want someone else to take a look - uhm, an earful or whatever - at your piece, I know someone with perfect hearing as well. She's the mother of some of the dancers here. You know the twins? I'm sure they wouldn't mind. Her husband is a musician as well. They could tell you if what you're hearing is actually there."

"Yes, maybe someone uninvolved…" Hermione contemplated. "That would actually be really helpful."

"Great! Well I'm going to get some lunch now, since it's probably my last meal before Snape kills me so… See you this afternoon?"

"Of course. I wish they'd finally hand out those rehearsal schedules. I don't even know what we're doing today and I feel awfully unprepared!" she chewed on her lip worriedly.

"I suppose they don't really know what to do either. We can't do act 2 again without Voldemort."

"Ah yes _, that_ ," Hermione remembered then frowned. "I-I think I might have heard you, you know? During rehearsal? Were you yelling?"

He looked at her astonished. He had had trouble hearing himself back then, and she was standing right in front of the orchestra. "Yes, I was, at the very beginning."

"I'm so sorry, I couldn't hear what you were saying. And I was already doubting my ears anyways and I haven't slept all that much and I just-… I was afraid to halt the music because of those snake dancers and-… and now that girl is seriously injured and-…"

"Whoa hold on, that is not your fault! She had a diabetic shock. They say- they say it was…well, natural."

"Yeah…natural." She didn't sound convinced.

They bid each other goodbye and Harry was about to leave for lunch when she held him back, clearly torn over something.

"I saw it," she said firmly, her lips pressed together in determination.

"Huh?"

"Voldemort. It was only from the corner of my eyes and I was too focused on the orchestra, but now I'm sure I saw it. He was right there beside you. I thought it was impossible because I've read so much about Hogwarts' star pupil and they always pointed out how flawlessly correct he is. So I thought he couldn't possibly have forgotten about the choreography. But I saw it."

Harry stared at her for a moment and then smiled.

Well look at that Tom. There are some people you can't fool.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are things/facts/events that contradict each other it is (most likely^^) intentional.  
> Hopefully you're not completely confused by now (or are embracing the confusion at least ;)). I'm hoping it will all make sense in the end... Hope dies last I heard.
> 
> Leave your thoughts here, I like them :D!
> 
> Also: You can find me on Tumblr under terrific-lunacy now :). Feel free to drop by and ask random stuff ^_^.


	8. When Illusions encourage Inspiration

 

 

 

The incident during their rehearsal of act 2 did not just affect Harry. At first he thought the general bleak appearance the world suddenly seemed to have was due to his own internal slump of confusion over what happened. But he soon noticed that it wasn't him alone.

The whole atmosphere in Hogwarts was subdued.

The students still went to their classes, bustling through the corridors, but the mood was dampened, quieter.

The Slytherins didn't pull him in anymore during the house dance rehearsals. People seemed to smile less. The talking and shouting during mealtime was reduced to hushed whispers. Even the twins were holding back.

It was as if everyone was afraid of something, waiting for it without knowing what to do, scared for its eventual arrival. They trudged along out of habitude, but the busy enthusiasm the end of year performance had offered was gone.

The teachers still made their corrections in class, but never chastised like they did before, especially Harry. They practically ignored him.

Except for Snape of course.

It was bad enough that Harry had been late to one of his classes, but walking out of it? He'd never see the end of it.

Harry could barely breathe in his presence without receiving his icy glare.

Snape also corrected and reprimanded the students just as much as before. Ironically the sour teacher was best at ignoring the downcast mood of the school. Heck, Harry was half convinced Snape couldn't even tell the difference.

But without the usual cheerful atmosphere to keep the students afloat, his demanding classes became torturous.

"You know, this really can't continue much longer," George said, sitting down next to his twin and Harry.

They had just finished their morning classes and got lunch in the great hall. The sixth division had had Snape for the previous class and looked particularly exhausted.

Fred glanced around at the sombre faces of their classmates. "Well it's not helping that the teachers don't know what to do with us anymore. Did you realize all we ever did after act 2 was practicing group dances? I mean come on, we've been focusing on the house dance for a week now!"

"And that rehearsal schedule never came. At first I thought it's because the teachers are lazy but now…"

"I don't think there is a schedule anymore."

Harry shook his head. "I don't get it. Wouldn't it be a lot better to practice the individual scenes now? Keeping us together in this big group and making us repeat the same thing over and over again will just add to the depression."

"Dunno," George shrugged. "Maybe they are hoping it would work like one of these group building exercises. Dumbledore is a big fan of unity."

"Well we're all depressed together, I suppose there's unity in that?" Fred joked wryly.

Harry sighed. "Remind me why we are depressed again? A girl got seriously injured and that's no light thing, but… I don't know, this is a dance school? Don't people get injured all the time?"

"If it was just the girl we'd be fine I think…but the overall timing…" George trailed off, picking at his food dispassionately.

"You weren't here when the headmaster announced what we would dance in our performance this year. People were…sceptical."

"There has only ever been one dance company that could perform 'A Prophecy' fully, like it's written in original. Students got nervous," Fred added.

George hummed in agreement. "There was excitement of course, I mean it's 'A Porphecy', there's no dancer who doesn't want to be in it."

"Plus we had Riddle," Fred pointed out. "So people started to think that it was going to be okay."

"The auditions for the lead were a bit of a bummer for some seniors, but they saw you dance with Tom and well…It suddenly seemed feasible you know?" George shrugged again.

"And then you both landed in the hospital. And instead of just carrying on, the teachers only focus on the easiest bits. I think people are getting disheartened, maybe thinking that this was impossible to begin with."

"Only for like a day," Harry mumbled, feeling a bit bad that the whole school could be in a slump because of something that happened to him.

"Well yeah, it's not like it was anyone's fault Harry," the twins made a dismissive gesture with their hands. "It's just…there was something weird about it."

Weird? If only they knew.

Actually it was probably better no one ever knew just how bizarre the accident had been. Harry could finally see why Draco might have warned him from telling anyone.

They were all in this together. A great atmosphere would give them strength. A tense mood like now? It would be hard to get them to perform the simplest ballet.

"Alright we better get going," George said glancing at the time.

"Ten bucks we're doing the house dance again?" Fred grinned, extending his hand to Lee Jordan, one of the twins' friends in sixth division.

Lee snorted. "No way, I'm not taking that bet. Literally zero chance we're doing anything else."

It turned out they were right.

Flitwick was in charge of the rehearsal, doing his best to motivate them.

The small man was usually good at that, his own excitement easily spilling over to the students. But even he seemed drained after a week of constantly putting on a cheerful mask.

He was relentless in keeping up a positive attitude though.

"Come on then Hufflepuffs! Yes, very nice Mr Macmillan, lovely Miss Bones! Carry on!"

Flitwick might pretend that nothing was amiss, but everyone could see they were all sloppier than in the beginning.

Snape wasn't present for this rehearsal. What would usually have been a cause for a more relaxed atmosphere turned out to be the last straw.

Without his sharp attention and feared comments, the students didn't seem to see a point in trying hard anymore.

Which really was odd, considering their fierce ambition.

And if one group stopped trying, the rest of them would follow - it was an unrelenting downwards spiral.

Harry had assumed it would blow over, that this sort of thing might even be common in Hogwarts, when drama escalated a bit. Looking at the unmotivated faces of the rest of the students he started to wonder if maybe it wouldn't just go away.

And if the twins were right and even the teachers were at their wits end as well…who could possibly rekindle their passion?

"Pathetic."

Harry jumped in surprise at the low voice right behind him.

"They are trying!" Harry scowled at Riddle, feeling the need to defend the group that was currently dancing. "Not everyone was just born with all the talents."

"They aren't trying, that is the problem. Have you ever seen me insult a dancer that is, no matter how talented?"

Well…no. Actually he hadn't. Harry blinked surprised. It would just fit Tom's smug character so well to look down on the less gifted dancers.

"It's sweet really," Tom continued, ignoring Harry's scowl. "You always assume the worst about me."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it reluctantly when he realized the other had a point.

A slow smile spread on Tom's face. "One usually apologizes for that."

Harry's glare came back full force. "Well I would, if you didn't insist on proving me right all the time."

Tom's eyebrows rose sceptically.

"Alright… 80 percent of the time," Harry admitted grudgingly.

"40, I refuse to be that predictable."

"70 percent, last offer."

Tom hummed softly in agreement.

Harry quickly extinguished the smile that tugged at his lips.

"This is kind of our fault you know."

"You mean because of act 2?" Tom asked annoyed. "They _are_ pathetic if that's all it takes to break their spirit."

"You sort of are the only thing that made them believe they could pull off 'A Prophecy'. They look up to you."

Tom tilted his head curiously. "Do you look up to me Harry?"

"I-… that-… Stop twisting my words!" he turned away and huffed. "It will blow over…I hope…It can't go on like this."

Tom followed his gaze and observed the dancing students with narrowed eyes. "No it can't."

In a split second Harry's wrist was gripped painfully and Tom tugged him forwards.

"Ouch! Damn you Riddle, you seriously need to stop doing that!"

Tom remained silent, pulling him easily along.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed, hopefully silent enough to not attract too much attention.

"I will not sit idle by and wait for everyone to regain their bearings as if they are some weak minded, spoiled toddlers."

"How is that supposed to-… Where are we going?" Harry tried to stop them more earnestly, as Tom steered towards the platform.

"The stage obviously."

"Why?! We're rehearsing!" he glanced behind him and saw quite a few heads already turned in their direction. "And everyone's looking!"

"Good."

Tom stopped in the middle of the stage and turned to face him, thankfully releasing his wrist.

Harry cradled his hand and rubbed the sore spot disgruntled. "'kay, great. What now?"

"Dance with me," Tom said, or rather demanded.

Harry frowned and glanced back down to the rest of the students. The group that was dancing still had Flitwick's full attention and some others were still watching on, but the majority stole curious looks towards the two on the platform.

"Why?" Harry asked warily.

"Because they won't let us."

That was true. Before the incident the teachers were only too happy to put them together for practicing. Since then they found ways to prevent exactly that from happening.

Even Snape had dropped his pas de deux lessons in favour of more technique orientated exercises. He didn't let anyone practice their duets to cover it up, but Harry knew it was to keep him and Tom separated.

Apparently the staff had come to the conclusion that they shouldn't dance together.

Even though Harry knew this obviously couldn't last, he had felt inclined to belief it too.

"Well maybe they have a point," Harry argued.

Tom just stared flatly at him.

"…And maybe they don't," Harry conceded. "But that doesn't mean we have to disrupt rehearsals just because you want to repeat act 2."

Tom shook his head. "Not act 2."

"What do you want then? Just us, as students? Bring it up with Snape."

"No we'll have to stay in character for this to work," Tom mused. "But nothing from the script…"

He looked at him thoughtfully and Harry had to stop himself from squirming under his gaze.

"How about we show them… What could have been." Tom started circling him.

"Huh?" Harry asked confused, watching the other uneasy.

"The Hero and Lord Voldemort…but without the prophecy."

"I really don't see how that would-…" Harry began uncertainly.

"Indulge me."

Harry rolled his eyes. He wanted to tell Tom to piss off, but his mind had already taken the suggestion and started to think it over without his permission.

'A Prophecy' without the prophecy? Not much would have happened, or would it?

"Don't take it too literally," Tom said from somewhere behind him, as if reading his thoughts.

Alright…Forget about the plot of 'A Prophecy'. Just the characters then.

The parallels between the two arch-nemeses were obvious and one of the most intriguing bits about the play.

It wouldn't be too surprising, if they had actually gotten along, under more favourable circumstances. It wouldn't take much really… But they would have to meet, without the deadly prophecy.

They shared so much, surely they would have understood each other. They'd have been wary at first, still too much differences in their characters. But without the blind hatred to keep them apart, without the stories to sabotage their first opinion…

Could they have been friends?

Harry paused to think about that.

 _Paused?_ Paused from what?

He noticed he was slightly out of breath. When, _when_ had he started to dance?

The big room was quiet now, the music that had accompanied the rehearsal had stopped.

He was looking directly at Tom, who was several steps away from him, dancing as well, despite the silence. How had he not noticed any of that?

Besides, it was almost impossible to ignore Tom Riddle when he was dancing.

Harry didn't share the ambition of the students here, couldn't really understand their competition. He did not suffer from the same envious feelings towards the star student.

Tom's dancing was breath-taking. Absolutely effortless.

Except right now it wasn't Tom's dancing. Even without a choreography, even without a famous story to back him up, he managed to look like Voldemort. But not just that.

This wasn't the cruel, evil dark Lord. He was dancing him at his very beginning, before he became the iconic enemy. Basically re-inventing him.

And he made it look _easy._ Natural.

If Harry didn't know about his smug, arrogant character, he would probably adore his very being.

But Tom was right, he did tend to assume the worst about him. He had known the other to be conceited since…since the twins had told him about the auditions really.

Did they not share a lot as well? Just like their roles?

He didn't know much about Tom, but the other had hinted at a similar past to him. Two orphans, dirt poor, in a sparkling place where everyone else had a very different background.

They had huge differences in character, but the same passion.

Harry had been excited to meet him. A dancer to step into Salazar's shoes, as just a student. How amazing he must be, how perfect his technique, how graceful his movements.

And Tom had been all that and topped it.

Harry could see it even now, in every turn the dancer made. He couldn't help but admire the sheer perfection of his dance.

Could he truly match him? His head might have wanted to contemplate that question further, but his body...his body had begun to move long ago. How could he possibly resist to try? Tom was all but inviting him.

He lost himself in the movements, the simple graceful steps of their meeting, the careful jumps of their acquaintance, the delightful twists of their curiosity, the brisk turns of their wariness.

The music trailed after them tentative at first, like the dancers themselves, more self-assured a few movements later.

But they were dancing without a choreography, there shouldn't be a piece of music to fit them. Was he imagining sound now, as well as visions?

The music fit so well…describing every ounce of yearning and caution he felt.

The dance didn't really give him a chance to think about it. He moved with a certainty not even a well-rehearsed routine could instill in him. It was the same fluid easiness he felt when dancing by himself in the dark park.

Except he wasn't alone.

Arms around his hips proved that, feet twisting around him showed that, hands on his arms felt that.

Yet it felt effortless.

A synchronicity that should not have been possible with the short amount of training.

Were they not tied together like their roles?

A tragedy shared. Pressured by destiny. Experiences no one else understood.

But instead of hunting him down like Voldemort, had Tom not tried to calm him afterwards? He even followed him into the park in the middle of the night.

How had he ever mistrusted him? Was he not the best possible friend one can wish for? Did Harry even deserve him? What had he done, except unfair accusations? And yet Tom had not turned away from him, always coming back, always patient.

Without the mistrust, without the need to hate each other, could the Hero and Voldemort have this as well? Did this dance not show perfectly what they would be?

Together they were one, perfect, whole, free.

But with the prophecy that bound them that option did not exist.

Harry's breath came out in ragged gasps from the effort of their dance. And with the realization that they could never even try, the comfort of the other's presence was taken from him and loneliness returned.

They were cursed to kill each other, cursed to fight, knowing that they would be great together.

They didn't end up in each other's arms like most duets, tragic or passionate. They ended up on the opposite sides of the stage, as far away from the other as possible.

Not being able to stand the presence of the other, but sharing an intimate familiarity. Knowing so much about the other.

Knowing what could have been.

It was hard to break eye contact. To let the spell shatter. To let reality crash back in over him.

Somebody started jeering and Harry didn't need to turn around to know it was the twins. Others soon chimed in.

Harry took a deep breath to calm his emotions. He felt like weeping. Disoriented, still. Confused as to what he'd done.

He couldn't remember the dance, not really. Had not been aware of his body moving most of the time.

But the loud noise and the presence of the stage under his feet grounded him. He shook his head as if to clear the images of their dance from his mind, trying to focus on the present, to get away from the powerful feelings.

And then the anger boiled up in him. He latched on to it like a lifeline, certain that at least it was his and his alone, not inspired by the dance.

He closed the distance between them and glared at Tom.

" _Stop_ doing that! You have _no_ right-…"

"I didn't do anything," Tom interrupted, watching him intently.

Harry fumed. "You used your freaky mind control - whatever the fuck it is you do - on me!"

Tom sneered. "I don't do anything, I just dance. Maybe you're simply too receptive of my emotions."

"Your emotions?" Harry repeated speechless. " _Your_ emotions?! You expect me to belief that-..!" he broke off.

_That you feel that way when we dance together._

He turned away from him, trembling.

What he had just experienced...what he had felt... It hadn't been 'A Prophecy'. It had been some would-be scenario, mixed with his own memories. He had _seen_ , he had _felt_ , what Tom had conjured up. For him.

He couldn't just storm out, even though he desperately wanted to be alone. Not now, not when everyone looked up at them with wide and excited eyes. It would destroy everything anew.

So he pulled himself together and kept his face blank, walking back down from the platform rigidly but in a measured pace.

The twins jumped him as soon as he stepped down.

"Christ, Harry!"

"Warn us next time!"

It almost hurt to look at their openly grinning faces.

"Can I sleep on your coach for a couple of days?" he pressed out.

"Huh?" George frowned confused. "But I thought you two were hitting it off now!"

Fred, who had a better look at Harry's tight face, shot his brother a warning look.

"Oh. Well, but your dorm is free and from our home you'd have to commute for an hour every day at least so…"

"I don't care. Please?"

They exchanged a look before shrugging. "Sure, mum will be delighted!"

Fred wrapped a protective arm around him, still grinning effortlessly. George was waving about with his arms madly, clearing a path for them through the crowd of excitedly chattering students who laughed at his antics.

Obviously they both sensed Harry's need to get away, even if they might not have understood what was going on. Sometimes he wondered just how much perceptiveness was hidden beneath the layers of jokes.

Harry all but proposed to the twins out of sheer gratefulness.

They managed to escape the room full of people and George shut the door behind them for good measure.

"Well then… Shall we introduce Harry to our favourite hobby, dear brother mine?"

"Oh I don't know, he had the guts to oversleep on a Snape morning, he seems to be doing fine on his own."

"Ah but an official welcome can't hurt!" George insisted. "We will teach you the noble art of skipping school, Harry."

"Err… Isn't that when you just…don't show up?"

"My! You're a natural!" they said in unison.

Harry couldn't help it, he had to smile at them.

"Harry? Are you-…"

The trio stopped and turned around to the tentative voice behind them.

Talking about perceptive people…

"Hi Hermione."

She was biting her lip worriedly, but apparently didn't plan to finish her question. It hung in the air between them though.

… _alright?_

"Actually good timing," Harry continued and gestured to the twins. "Fred, George, this is Hermione. Hermione, meet Fred and George."

"The other way around my dear," the twins grinned at her.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperated. "They're trying to confuse you. It is not the other way around… I think."

"Weasley, right?" Hermione asked.

"Why, our reputation precedes us!" the twins exclaimed delighted. "You've heard only good things we hope."

Hermione looked at them sceptically. "I suppose that depends on how you define _good_."

"Actually I told her about your mother," Harry intervened, knowing the twins would take poor Hermione up on her point and plunge into an hour long explanation about their own deranged definition of good deeds. "Apparently they have the same ears."

"Aw shame, the confusion thing won't work then," the twins sighed.

"Really?" Harry asked surprised.

"No, how do you think our mum told us apart as babies?" Fred grinned.

"Our screams had a different pitch. Minimal of course."

"She's still doing it today with our voices."

"But we know her secret now," George proclaimed sagely.

"So we distort our voices if we want to."

"You have a better chance at keeping them apart than I do then," Harry said to Hermione.

"Hey, why don't you come with us as well? And when we go home we'll introduce you to our mum."

"Then we'll have kidnaped the lead dancer _and_ the conductor." They grinned at each other. "Wicked."

"You're going now? But it's still rehearsal time! You can't just skip it!" she said indignantly, as if them leaving was somehow a personal affront.

"Why ever not?" the twins asked, honestly curious.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and seemed to get ready for a sensible answer, but the door behind them opened and students started to stream out of the auditorium.

"They've finished early?" she asked instead, perplexed.

"Maybe they're finally going to re-schedule."

"Or Flitwick called some sort of emergency meeting."

"Emergency for what?" Harry asked frowning, scanning the crowd of leaving students for signs of Tom, which would have been his immediate cue to flee.

"Our dear Harry," the twins mused.

"Obviously doesn't understand the extent of his powers," Fred said, shaking his head woefully.

Harry snorted and swatted their arms away. "Let's just get out of here."

"Couldn't agree more!" George said.

"So…you're coming? We don't have rehearsals anymore apparently." Fred shrugged at Hermione.

She hesitated a few moments more, but then walked after them.

"Do you have a plan?" Harry asked them doubtfully, as they steered him out of Hogwarts.

"For skipping school? Always."

"We're not skipping anymore," Hermione pointed out. "Are we?" she still sounded worried.

"Bah. Details."

"Ron says he's got a free period, wanna go to the usual spot?"

Harry shrugged, anything outside and away from the school sounded good. "Sure."

They made their way in the direction of the park they always visited. They were about halfway down the road when the twins started sniffing the air.

"Aahh, divine!"

"Who wants a hot dog?" George asked and already started running towards the street stand, his twin close behind.

"I thought you dancers ate considerately!" Hermione laughed in accusation.

"Pff. Stereotype."

The twins arrived at the stand and probably started to bother the vendor while Harry and Hermione continued to walk along their path.

They walked in silence until Hermione started fidgeting.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…I just-…Well I just didn't know what else-…. But it- it wasn't okay was it?"

"Whoa, hold on, what are you talking about?"

"The music! I-…I shouldn't have. It just was so _clear_ what you two were portraying and it felt wrong to let you do it in silence, so I started to improvise. And at first it seemed to help, you know? But I saw you at the end and I just knew I did it wrong. It made it worse right? For you?"

"So there _was_ music? Oh thank god," Harry laughed awkwardly. "I thought it was just in my head again."

Hermione looked crestfallen. "See? I'm such an idiot! You even told me about what happened during act 2. I should have known!"

"You didn't do anything wrong, honestly. Actually did you just improvise a piece for a whole orchestra according to what you saw us doing on stage? Holy crap, Hermione, you're amazing."

She looked slightly better after that. "Well I didn't ask your opinion on the music itself. Just… It makes it worse for you if there's music doesn't it? The whole… _in your head_ thing."

"Music pulls me in," Harry admitted. "But really, when I noticed that the orchestra was playing I was already-… Anyways, don't sweat it."

"Don't sweat what?"

Harry smiled at Ron and let himself fall onto their favourite bench beside him. Hermione tentatively sat down as well.

"She has problems with her music and the orchestra won't really listen to her," Harry explained.

It wasn't really what they had just talked about, but it was still true. And Harry knew it was still bothering Hermione.

"They're conservatives. Every change I make from the original score is met with a wall of resistance," Hermione huffed upset. "Even though Dumbledore specifically told me to change things up!"

"She's awesome, she can improvise a whole piece and match it to the mood in less than a minute," Harry told Ron, and Hermione smiled a bit at the compliment.

"It's just a bit hard when you're the only one believing your changes to be the right call. What if the audience won't like it? It will be all my fault for not listening to the others."

"Well I thought that diminuendo instead of the crescendo during the third verse in act 5 at the auditions was mighty clever of you," Ron said.

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. Not even he had noticed that particular change. Then again, he had been a bit busy at the moment.

"You- you noticed that?" Hermione asked speechlessly.

"Yeah I know that's not the original score. Harry makes me watch the original at least once a month, so I can compare them fairly well." Ron continued offhandedly, then noticed both Harry and Hermione staring at him.

"Uhm…Not-…not that I really know much about…err…music…stuff," his face began to match his hair colour and he scratched his head embarrassed. "Uhm, I just…pick stuff up…and well I really uhm…liked it…your version I mean."

Hermione blinked, looking at Ron as if she just noticed him sitting there, appearing out of thin air. Her mouth stood slightly open in surprise, but in her eyes glimmered something warm.

It was a shame the twins had tackled Ron in that exact moment, trying to shove a hot dog in his mouth, making it impossible for him to have seen it.

"I thought you said he hated musicians?" Hermione whispered to him.

Harry chuckled. "Ron? Not really, he likes to pretend though. All his favourite people are connected to music."

The afternoon outside was exactly what Harry needed. The few hours spent in the peaceful company of his friends pulled him away from the dark maelstrom that seemed to hang over Hogwarts.

The weird pull 'A Prophecy' had over him could not affect him here. Neither could Tom Riddle. But maybe these two worries were one and the same anyways.

The longer he stayed outside, the clearer his mind got, and the lingering feeling of confusion retreated.

Hermione's mood also brightened. The worried frown on her forehead got lighter and her lips weren't pressed together in frustration anymore.

Harry assumed she was the type to completely overwork herself, drowning in her project, lost in the pursuit of perfection. Hogwarts attracted these kinds of people like a lightbulb did moths.

But a pleasant afternoon without thinking about their worries, and in the company of the infamous Weasley twins, could probably restore everyone's energy.

When it got darker, they left the park and headed to the Weasley's home. The house had seen better days and was much too small for the big family, but Harry loved it there.

He had been proud of his own little hole, but it had never truly felt like a home. Maybe it was because it had been cold and dingy, but he suspected what really bothered him was the lack of people. He needed his moments alone, but a childhood spent in loneliness made him crave the presence of other people around him.

At the Weasley's there was never a boring minute. With Molly bustling about, Ginny twirling proudly in her new ballet shoes, the twins pranking Percy, Ron arguing with Charlie about Bill's new contract with a ballet company, Arthur tinkering away at the piano and various other instruments.

If Harry thought about the definition of home, this place came to his mind.

Molly Weasley was absolutely delighted when her sons brought not one but _two_ unexpected guests home. The fuller her table, the bigger her smile.

She fussed over Harry like she hadn't seen him all year and was more than thrilled to learn about Hermione's gift.

Molly had just managed to finally get them all together to sit down at the kitchen table for dinner when the old doorbell rang.

"It's probably just advertising again," Mr Weasley yawned.

"Harry dear, could you check quickly?" Mrs Weasley called over her shoulder from the stove.

Harry weaved his way through the many members of the family to the door. It was just as worn as the rest of the house and squeaked loudly in protest.

Harry had to hold in his own protest when he saw who stood on the porch, his heart freezing momentarily.

"Hello Harry," Tom smiled pleasantly. "Almost like a déjà-vu isn't it?"

"What are you doing here?" Harry groaned and rubbed his temples.

"You didn't come back to the dorms and it was getting late. I was worried." Tom looked him up and down with his unnerving intense stare. "You _are_ planning to come back I hope?"

Mrs Weasley appeared behind them, apparently wanting to see what took Harry so long. Her face lit up when she saw Tom.

"Another friend of yours Harry? How delightful, I'm so happy for you my dear. You know I always worry. You should bring them more often. Well, come in then! You made it just in time for dinner!"

"Err, no, he doesn't-…" Harry sighed when it became clear Mrs Weasley had already disappeared back into the kitchen, out of earshot.

He turned back to Tom who looked slightly surprised at Mrs Weasley's retreating back. "Look I-… It's just for a few days okay?"

"Why?"

The simple question almost managed to knock him off track again. Tom had a way to do that.

"I just…want to?" Harry said.

"Are you asking or stating a fact?" Tom asked amused.

"I want to." He said more confidently.

"Fine," Tom said finally. "But I'm staying for dinner."

He pushed past him through the door before Harry could protest.

"Since when are you taking part in social activities?" Harry scowled.

Tom's red eyes bore into him and Harry's heart skipped a beat. _Red?_ No, blue. Of course they were blue.

"Since you're a part of it."

 

 

 

 


	9. When commitments crumble away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and staying patient with me :3
> 
> It's been pointed out a lot that this story reminds people of the movie Black Swan. Before anyone is going to sue me I just wanted to make it clear that I have not seen that movie until after I wrote several chapters of this story. After some soul searching I arrived at the conclusion that, if anything, a movie called 'Carmen' by Carlos Saura from 1983 might have subconsciously inspired me. I've watched it about a decade ago in school (and had quite a hard time finding it again). It's spanish, about a group of flamenco dancers that practice a musical and become a bit too invested in their roles.  
> If anyone hasn't seen Black Swan I can only recommend it though! (And yes, there are undoubtedly parallels)
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

 

 

The commuting was a bit impractical, but overall Harry didn't regret his decision at all. The only thing he really worried about was overstaying his welcome.

The Weasleys treated him like any other family member. It's what they had been doing for several years now, but it was still different to stay permanently with them now that he actually would have a choice.

So after four days he was beginning to feel a bit guilty for imposing.

Tom had not brought the issue up again, but Harry felt as if there was _something_ lurking there.

He felt his eyes watching him in the halls during the breaks, his presence everywhere he went. During the lessons Tom stayed polite and patient, but Harry got the feeling the other was just waiting for him to come back.

Why it was so important to him in the first place Harry couldn't even guess.

He made sure to always sit with the twins during lunchtime, but otherwise his vigilance around Tom decreased slowly.

Now that he actually left the school in the evening, he started to think of Tom's presence as an integral part of the building itself. When he was at school the teachers were there, ballet was everywhere, and so was Tom. He left in the evening and came back in the morning, and Tom was always there.

Which was why he actually paused when he saw Tom in an empty corridor that morning, staring at a display case.

A week earlier he would have turned around and left quickly, but now he stopped, argued with himself for a bit and then actually walked over to him.

The display case contained various pictures of previous students, sometimes in classes, sometimes alone holding trophies. Some of them even were in black and white.

"You know anyone?" Harry asked.

Tom pointed to a picture in the front row, featuring a group of students, enough that Harry suspected they were one level, probably the graduates.

They were all beaming happily at the camera, but otherwise Harry saw nothing remarkable. He glanced down to read the small names engraved on the little tags.

… _venclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Hel-…._

"Slytherin!" Harry exclaimed surprised, squinting at the picture more attentively.

The young man stood slightly to the left of the picture, smiling exasperated at another student who had his arm thrown around his shoulder and was grinning at the camera.

He looked quite a bit younger than on the recordings of his famous performance, which had been during his peak as a dancer. Harry mustered the student who stood next to him, the features somewhat familiar.

"Is that..?"

"The Hero," Tom confirmed Harry's suspicion. "Godric Gryffindor. People don't really talk about him, or the other dancers in the play. Salazar has always been the focus."

"They went to school together?" Harry asked amazed.

"Rumour has it they were best friends."

Something about the way he said it made Harry glance up at him. Intense blue eyes bored into his.

His mouth felt suddenly dry and he gulped. "Good for them."

He straightened and fumbled with his sportsbag. "Err, class starts in ten minutes."

"I'm already dressed and ready," Tom replied, turning back to the pictures.

"Uhm, right. See you." He practically fled from the corridor.

What was it with Tom and making him uncomfortable? There was just something in his behaviour and the things he said sometimes… Harry couldn't quite place it.

So the Hero and Voldemort had been friends long before they made history. Harry guessed he shouldn't be so surprised at that. Their chemistry was certainly the most important factor after Slytherin's miraculous choreography.

But it was weird, knowing they went through these exact same halls, probably had lessons together, maybe even lived together, just like…

Harry shook his head. Well, for Godric's sake he hoped _his_ Voldemort had been a bit less…extreme.

Harry decided he needed to watch his old DVD again. It would be different now that he knew he would actually be in 'A Prophecy'. Couldn't hurt to focus a bit more on the Hero's part this time around, and how he interacted with his nemesis.

He wondered if there were any kind of recordings from Grindelwald's performance. The production never made it on stage, but shouldn't there at least be snippets from rehearsals? A list of the casting at least. Because even from that production, only Grindelwald as the dancer who would have played Voldemort became a famous name.

And there was the disturbing fact Draco had shared.

Harry hadn't talked to the young Malfoy since that day. He didn't know how to broach the subject and Draco so far had given him nothing but the cold shoulder.

Harry had still been relieved, at least the blonde wasn't going out of his way to make him miserable. He could live with being ignored.

He walked into the corridor where the seventh division class was held this morning and found Sirius and James blocking the entrance.

Another student, a bit smaller and wiry than the two, was obviously unhappy about it.

"You don't need to pass through here," James grinned, extending his arms so the other boy couldn't pass. "Only for the big boys you understand."

Harry couldn't see the boy's face from where he stood but it was obvious from his voice that he was pissed. "For the last time James, I was held back because I was-"

"Sick. Injured. Whatever makes you sleep at night," James waved his protests away, disbelief obvious in his voice.

"Fine, don't believe me jackass, just let me through!"

"Oh what is that?" Sirius had snatched something from the boy's bag and was inspecting it delighted. "Is that a _diary_?"

"Give that back!" the boy snapped, trying to seize the book back from Sirius, but his height had him at a disadvantage.

"It would be a shame not to read it." He made to open the book.

"Hey!" the boy tried to lunge for the book again, but Sirius danced around him, easily evading his attempts.

"Maybe there's something about us in there," James smirked.

Sirius seemed delighted with that idea. "Why we would be so _honoured_."

Sirius had his back to Harry now and James was too occupied with the other boy, which was why they didn't see him coming.

Harry was also a bit shorter than Sirius, but since the other didn't notice his approach it was very easy to grab the book from his outstretched hand.

All of them turned around to face him, surprised.

He smiled a bit awkwardly. "Come on guys, that's personal."

Relieved that they merely seemed sheepish and didn't suddenly attack him or anything, he held out the book to the boy.

"Here."

He was met with what was probably the fiercest, deepest, most intimidating scowl he had ever seen on someone's face.

"I don't need your help," the boy spat at him.

Harry literally took a step back from the sheer unpleasant vehemence of the other. "Err, s-sorry?"

"Idiot," the boy hissed, snatched his book out of Harry's hands and stormed off.

Harry stared after him, then turned to James and Sirius. "Well isn't he a little ball of sunshine. What on earth did you do to him?"

James grinned meekly. "Nah, he just is like that."

"Yup, we're just trying to make him lighten up a bit!" Sirius tried to assure him. "By uhm…reading his diary."

"If it's any consolation, I thought you made a pretty dashing hero," James said and gave Harry a thumbs up.

Harry looked at him sceptically. "Says the bully?"

James seemed embarrassed, but only a bit. "The brat stole our ballet slippers two days ago! You have any idea how pissed off Malfoy was? We _had_ to get him back for that."

"And he did it because he was just born evil or..?"

"Yeah ok, we might have spiked his orange juice with vodka before that, but come on that was _funny_! And we went through a lot of trouble to get that vodka!" James protested.

"Seeing him tipsy was totally worth it though," Sirius mused, then saw Harry's frown and hastily added. "But hey, he did…err, _something_ before that to earn it, I'm sure of it!"

"C'mon Harry," James groaned. "This is a boarding school. Prank wars is literally all that we have!"

Harry sighed. "Just don't push him too hard, he looked ready to bite my head off."

James snorted. "I told you, he's always like that."

"He's not in the seventh division is he?" Harry asked, not recalling seeing him in their lessons.

"No, he would be technically, but he got held back last year and is stuck in sixth," Sirius grinned, but caught himself. "Which is uhm…tragic, of course."

Harry thought back to his first set of lessons in Hogwarts when he had gone to the sixth level with the twins. He couldn't remember seeing the boy there.

But he hadn't really looked around and there wasn't anything particularly noticeable about him. If he wasn't hissing and spitting at you.

"You'll get to meet him though," James said.

"I will?"

Sirius nodded. "Pretty big role in the performance, as he so often likes to point out. Take a guess."

Harry thought back to the fierce scowl on the boy's face, trying to match him to any of the roles in the performance.

"The cat?" he suggested hesitantly, thinking about the cat that had chased the traitor in act three and overall seemed to have a grumpy disposition.

Sirius doubled over with laughter. "The cat! Oh gods that's brilliant!"

"We'll tell him next time!" James chimed in delighted.

"We can get some cats and lock them into his dorm room-…" Sirius began excitedly.

"Okay, it's not the cat," Harry interrupted, not wanting to be the cause of even more pranks for the other student.

James sobered a bit. "He's the Potions Master, obviously. That scowl needs to be good for something."

"I have private lessons with him _and_ Snape?" Harry whispered, literally feeling his blood draining from his face.

He could already see those two sneering at him synchronously.

"Actually…" Sirius said, fishing in his pockets for something. He took out a folded paper and unrolled it to study it. "Thanks to our brand new schedule - which took them forever to make, honestly - we can see…aha, yep, you have it tomorrow."

He pointed to the time slot for the next day's rehearsal and Harry leaned over to read it.

Some group dances would be practiced in the big auditorium, a few pairs of students were listed separately in other rooms. Harry quickly scanned the paper for his name.

_Room 212. 13:15. Act 5, scene 8, Occlumency. Harry Potter, Tobias Prince._

"And we just had to start with that scene," Harry groaned. "Wonderful."

"Think positive Harry, at least the mood is already set," James grinned.

Yes, that was the worrying bit. The mood always seemed a bit _too_ set.

Other students of their division started coming up the stairs and the three of them hurried after them to the classroom.

They had Malfoy for the whole morning, but 'only' spent half the time on pirouettes for which Harry was eternally grateful and he managed to eat about three quarters of his lunch.

They started rehearsing the yule ball for act 4 in the afternoon.

The overall atmosphere had lifted a lot since the beginning of the week. Now that they even had a fixed schedule people grew really excited about the production, comparing their timetables with friends, discussing the assigned teacher for each scene.

There was some whispered discontentment about the duration of the rehearsals, because apparently they were a whole hour longer than in previous years.

People began to worry if their bodies would be able to keep up and students started planning more time for rehabilitation exercises in the evening. The students at Hogwarts were nothing if not prepared to give everything, the extension of their workload merely another challenge to prove themselves.

Overall it finally seemed as if the production was on its way, the slow start at last overcome.

Harry's own spirits lifted as well and he was thinking that maybe today was as good a day as any to return to his dorm.

However after rehearsals Hermione sought him out, telling him she would visit Mrs Weasley again, asking him if he would also stay for dinner.

So Harry spent another night at the Weasley's, ignoring the voice in his head that told him he really needed to stop intruding.

 

The next morning Harry arrived at Hogwarts feeling anxious. That afternoon would be the first private rehearsal with Snape after practicing act 1 and the first after Harry ran out of his class.

After that incident he had made sure to always arrive at least ten minutes before classes started when they were taught by Snape. This seemed to appease the snarky man at least somewhat, though Harry guessed the only reason why he wasn't forced to endure his displeasure was because the other students constantly required Snape's attention.

With the production already lagging behind as it was, not even Snape could waste his time on petty revenge.

They had Flitwick for the morning, which meant three hours of strenuous technical exercises.

James and Sirius rushed into the class late, both of them covered in scratches. They took their place next to Harry and grinned at him sheepishly.

"Tried to catch one of those stray cats," Sirius whispered.

"We think maybe we don't need to prank Tobias further after all," James said nonchalantly.

Harry snorted. "And the fact that you got beaten by the cat has nothing to do with that change of heart?"

"Cat _s_. The beasts ganged up on us I tell you!" Sirius said, looking a bit haunted.

Harry laughed and shook his head.

"Yes, yes, we deserved that," James grumbled and winked at him.

"At least tell him you think he would make a good cat this afternoon? Please? For us?" Sirius pleaded.

Harry didn't reply as the exercise demanded his full attention, but he swore to himself two things that moment.

One, he most certainly would never mention anything like that.

Two, he would do his very best to keep James and Sirius away from the twins. He had a feeling the world would shatter if those four started a pack.

The class required all of his focus, but by the time lunch had ended and Harry was searching for the specified room, his anxiousness returned.

He knew for certain that he was at least five minutes early, but both Snape and Tobias were already present.

They turned to him, both equally silent and stoic, neither of them looking pleased to see him

Snape didn't even so much as greet him. "Act 5 scene 8 is choreographically speaking pretty simple, but artistically hard to do. What we are trying to achieve is to portray a purely mental struggle physically."

Harry had deposited his bag in a corner and came up next to Tobias, taking his position.

"The random memories brought to the surface will be shown by the required dancers at the other end of the stage. You don't need to bother with what they are doing, all of their short dances are completely independent of yours."

He went over to the music player. "The music will start relatively slow and increase in tempo to demonstrate the Hero's struggle and exhaustion. The change is gradual, so you need to pay extra attention to dance in step."

The music started and they began, Harry by now familiar with Snape's way to do things. The man always liked to watch first, cataloguing every tiny mistake they made to correct later.

Harry had known that the choreography was relatively straightforward. But dancing it himself now, he realized that while the dance looked easy and simple, the technique behind it was gruelling. Not hard, but exhausting.

Tobias was one of the least muscular dancers Harry had seen in the school, how the gangly boy was able to keep up was beyond him. He danced with a scowl on his face, though Harry wasn't sure whether that was him playing his role or simply something he did.

He was good, but distant, almost reluctant to do as much as touch Harry.

It didn't surprise him that it was one of the first issues Snape brought up. Judging from the somewhat exasperated tone, Harry wondered if maybe it was a persistent problem for Tobias.

"It is not a pas de deux per se, Mr Prince. But you will have to be more forceful. It might not be physical, but it is still an assault. Barriers are shattered. The Hero is trying and failing horribly. Make him fail." He sneered down at Harry. "It shouldn't be too hard."

They tried again and Harry's muscles soon began to strain from the effort, especially after Flitwick's morning exercises as well.

He did not have years of training. His body might be made to dance but wasn't hardened. He could twist and turn and jump with the momentum, but something about this basic choreography had him sweating.

"I do hope that quivering is just your artistic portrayal of the Hero, Potter."

"Hope dies last I heard," Harry pressed out.

Snape sighed dramatically and told them to freeze, correcting Harry's posture.

"Arms higher, stop hunching your shoulders it all but screams exertion. You need to make it look effortless, no matter how painful."

Harry tried, carefully keeping his face blank.

"It's not just a matter of your expression Potter, it's your whole posture," Snape corrected. "Relax you hand, keep your feet pointed, stop tensing up along your back, chin up, keep a straight line…"

Harry felt as if he might need a crash course in anatomy as well because some of the things he said made no sense to him.

Relax there, but tense here, soft movements here, but not there. He didn't know which muscles to activate and which ones not, did not possess the necessary control over his body.

This of course only served to infuriate Snape more and more. He began to practically manhandle Harry into the desired position, his explanations often not sufficient to tell him what he wanted.

Harry didn't mind getting corrected physically, but this soon felt too forceful, invasive.

Whether Snape noticed his reluctance or whether he remembered Harry being not too fond of touches, he changed his strategy and actually tried to demonstrate the positions while Harry danced with Tobias.

And Harry really did try, but his body simply wouldn't rearrange itself in the desired way.

Snape became more exasperated, Harry was frustrated with himself and exhausted, and Tobias once actively stepped out of his way instead of catching him, which really didn't help with building up trust.

"Mr Prince," Snape said resigned.

"I can do it," Tobias insisted defensively.

"I don't doubt you can, I'm wondering why you don't want to."

Tobias pointed accusingly at Harry. "He's all but flailing around!"

"I'm trying," Harry ground out.

"Well try harder," Tobias snapped.

"Stop it, both of you," Snape sneered. "I don't need your adolescent hormones on top of everything else."

"I _am_ trying," Harry insisted again, glaring at Tobias.

"Potter," Snape warned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this situation physically hurt him.

He moved over to them and shooed Tobias from his place, taking up position in front of Harry.

"You have shown to perform choreographies which should have been far beyond your skills and you did so effortlessly. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Potter, you need to stop thinking."

Harry took a deep breath. Stop thinking. It was easy with Tom. The dancer led him so effortlessly, pulled him in instantly.

Right now all he could think of was how heavy his body felt.

"Maybe a break..?" he suggested weakly, already knowing the answer.

"No, there won't be any breaks in the performance. Your exhaustion is a drive on its own, you need to be able to use it. _Move_ , Potter."

Harry didn't understand. Tobias was still standing apart from them, next to the wall. What was he supposed to-

Snape's first jump almost knocked him over.

Harry's mind was so shocked his body took over out of reflex.

The man was precision personified, rigid in his execution, fluid in his movements. A scalpel, cutting him apart with surgical accuracy.

Harry unravelled in front of him.

It was like learning how to dance from scratch, all previous techniques forgotten, useless.

Tom always coaxed him into his role, making him forget he was even dancing, his movements simply a by-product of telling the story.

Snape dissected, showed him every single flaw, made all weaknesses glaring obvious.

As much as Harry tried to keep up and fulfil his demands, he could feel himself failing with every muscle he moved.

It happened so fast, he couldn't remember who he was, what he was supposed to be doing. The character that normally infused his dance was gone, his body nothing but a vessel for Snape's will.

Unlike Tom there was nothing taunting, or daring, no challenge in Snape's dance. Only a cold list of wrongs and errors, tearing apart his very foundations. Cruel and merciless in his demonstration.

The mistakes piled up and coupled with his shock and previous frustrations, his dance deteriorated even more.

Harry had never felt so inadequate before.

What little resistance he might have had at the beginning was gone. Snape reduced him to a flapping idiot.

He was ensnared by the man's dance, a master at what he was doing, beautifully cruel in his movements.

And yet Harry hated it, feeling so very useless, all his ugly sides bared open, their dance too intimate without any physical touch.

His body screamed at him, his muscles barely still holding him up and Harry just wanted it to _stop_ -

But they couldn't stop, it was too crucial, there was too much at stake. If Voldemort invaded his dreams again, if he took over-

No, this was for a performance, just dancing, this wasn't-

"Stop!" he screamed, forcing his body to an abrupt halt.

They stopped.

His mind was in chaos, a whirlwind of emotions, so fleeting he couldn't name them, confusion over everything. He was panting, but he couldn't tell whether it was from the physical or the mental effort.

He tried to focus on anything; the polished floor, the stainless mirrors, the windows, Hogwarts, reality.

He was _here_. Not there.

His breathing became regular and he managed to straighten up. He saw Tobias pressed up against the wall, eyes wide, expression strangely terrified.

Snape was frozen.

His body still halfway in a turn, arms still extended, stare unfocused. He blinked, his expression becoming oddly peaceful for a moment and then…something _twisted_.

"Get out."

It was a whisper, barely even that, but there was danger there and so, so much pain.

"B-but that was…" Harry began incredulously, more confused than ever.

_That was beautiful._

"GET OUT!" Snape bellowed, taking a brisk step towards him and Harry ran, panicked.

He sprinted out of the room, not even bothering to get his things. He glimpsed Tobias scrambling for his own bag and running after him, even though Snape's ire was primarily directed at Harry.

By some unspoken agreement they both ran down the corridor and down the stairs, neither of them stopping until they had put two floors between themselves and the room.

Both of them were gasping for air when they finally stopped.

"What," Harry wheezed, " _What_ was that?"

"I don't know," Tobias said between two gasps of air. "I-…he _never_ dances. I've seen him show us one or two forms but-…he never dances."

"He started it!" Harry exclaimed.

"I know, I saw, I-…" Tobias took a deep breath, regaining his composure. "If I were you, I'd stay away from him if you can."

"Stay away from him?" Harry echoed. "I have lessons with him first thing tomorrow morning!"

"Yes…Good luck with that."

Tobias hastily stuffed his things more securely into his bag and shakily turned away. He was clearly just as rattled as Harry himself but…hell, at least he would be able to stay out of it.

Harry for his part, was once again left alone, without a clue what was going on, feeling slightly lightheaded.

Additionally all his stuff was locked in a room with a monster.

In the end he did the only sensible thing he could still think of - he headed to Hogwarts' dormitories.

The students who passed him outside didn't so much as blink at the fact that he was only in his training outfit. Around Hogwarts' main building his getup was perfectly normal.

Tom only looked mildly surprised when Harry walked into their room.

He was sitting at his desk, pouring over some tome with the riveting title _Hip Anatomy and Factors Affecting Turnout._

"Harry! So good to see-…"

"What happened to Snape?" Harry asked, not caring if he came off as rude for interrupting, his thoughts still jumbled.

Tom cocked his eyebrow. "You're asking me because..?"

Harry shrugged and slumped down to sit on his bed. "You know everything."

Tom scrutinized him for a while, taking his time to think things through.

"He has old injuries," Tom began finally. "They say it hinders him from dancing, but in truth they are nothing but excuses."

"But he _is_ injured?" Harry enquired.

"I don't know the details, but yes, apparently. Something he got before he even started dancing."

"So…he can't dance anymore?"

He certainly didn't seem to have any trouble before. What if he was seriously hurt now and they just ran out? That wouldn't explain his anger though.

"Well they never hindered him too much throughout his education so it's safe to say he can. Another accident happened very early in his career," Tom said, closing the book and turning around in his chair to properly face him. "They were practicing some kind of important pas de deux. His old injury flared up and he made a small mistake. Small, but with severe consequences. He dropped the girl.

Harry almost didn't dare to breathe. "Did she die?"

Tom scoffed, looking at him like he was a complete idiot. "They were _dancing_ , not hacking away at each other with swords. Of course she didn't die."

Harry let out a relieved breath. By now he didn't take anything for granted. Too much had happened while _just_ dancing.

"But she got injured. Irreparable," Tom continued. "Her career ruined before it even began, her dreams crushed. She hated him and he hated himself. Apparently abstaining from dancing is his own designated punishment."

Harry tried to imagine it and failed. Dancing was like breathing, he needed it, craved it. He couldn't begin to conceive why someone would willingly give it up.

"He just…stopped? For a stranger?

Snape had gone through Hogwarts as well, had sacrificed everything just like the students now. And then he just turned his back on all of that?

Tom didn't say anything but he gave him a long, pointed look.

Something clicked into place in Harry's mind. "He loved her."

He lost the person he loved, he lost the thing he loved. He spent his days in a school surrounded by dance, constantly yearning for it and yet never letting himself indulge.

Until now.

A small demonstration turned into a full-fledged dance. The one thing he had abstained from for so long pulling him back like an addiction. Breaking his promise.

"He will _kill_ me," Harry whispered with conviction.

Tom tilted his head curiously, obviously wondering what had brought all this on.

"Don't worry," he smirked, "I'll protect you."

It didn't do much except making him laugh, but that night Harry stayed in the dorms.

 

 

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! My first OC. Not sure he even counts though... Basically I cloned Snape xD.
> 
> Just to clarify: I named him Tobias because I suspected that name would automatically be associated with Snape. He is not, however, meant to be Snape's violent father, but very much a young version of Snape. Prince because of obvious reasons. I know you could say Snape's mother was also named Prince and that would make them related or something but oofff, pls don't think to hard about these things, I'm confused enough as it is.  
> He will probably pop up a few more times since the Potions Master does have a crucial role.
> 
> I always found the whole Marauders vs Severus pretty interesting, because they really did some nasty things to him, but as they grew older turned into really decent people. In this story I see their relationship more like the one Harry has with Draco in canon. More of a rivalry than bullying.
> 
> Also, does anyone spontaneously have a good 'name' for Neville's character? Or for Draco (is the rival ok)? Uuuhh, and if anyone has ideas for Myrtle, Cedric or Katie Bell I'd be super happy to hear those as well ^_^!
> 
> Cya! :)


	10. When Words act as Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I was lousy at answering your reviews this time around, but thank you all so so much for all the wonderful ideas you gave me :)! It was actually really interesting to see that some 'names' were mentioned repeatedly. I'm assuming these are the attributes people associate strongly with those characters, so I'll be using them in the future.
> 
> Again, thank you and enjoy :)

 

 

 

Albus Dumbledore usually spent his morning sitting comfortably in his office, sipping his favourite tea that everyone else deemed too sweet to drink, and reading the newspaper. Depending on how interesting the newspaper was, it took him more or less time to browse through it before moving on to answering his correspondences.

This morning, he hadn't even had the chance to get further than the front page before a quietly fuming Severus barged in.

The man never really looked well-rested, but today it was particularly obvious that he hadn't slept at all.

"I'm not doing this anymore."

Albus sighed and folded the newspaper back together. "Tea, my boy? It might help relax any stiff muscles…"

"You knew," Severus spat accusingly. "You knew what would happen and you ordered me to give additional lessons and-… You knew I would-"

"Dance?" Albus asked gently. It wasn't often that his colleague was lost for words. "Severus, I know you try your best to convince yourself otherwise, but you _are_ a dancer."

He watched as the younger man began to pace agitatedly in front of his desk. "And yes, I admit I'm not particularly astonished that it was Harry who finally managed to inspire you again. The boy does seem to have the tendency to draw other people's talents out, in the same manner that others reveal his."

"Potter has nothing to do with this!" Severus denied vehemently.

"Then why did you?"

Severus paused in his pacing and fixed his employer with a dark look. "Stop pretending headmaster, there was a reason you chose that ballet. I just don't know which one yet."

Albus hummed thoughtfully. "You were inspired by the story then? You got lost in 'A Prophecy'. It is a very touching piece, which is exactly why I chose it."

"Is it?" Severus asked scathingly.

He reached into the folds of his clothes and took out the document he had managed to print out the night before. He dropped the stack of papers onto Albus' desk.

Albus only raised an eyebrow and regarded the stack sceptically. "And that is..?"

"The casting list of the failed production of 'A Prophecy'."

"Ah," made Dumbledore, making no move to touch the papers. "I do wonder how you always manage to get these things, Severus."

"And I had wondered why it was so hard to get in the first place. Looking up the individual names I realized one can hardly blame them from erasing every trace of it. Was that your doing as well?"

Albus calmly took a sip of his tea. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, my boy."

Severus stepped forward and flipped through the document, slamming it back down in front of Dumbledore when he found the site he was looking for.

"Would you care to explain to me, headmaster," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Why our school is performing the ballet that resulted in the death of your own sister?"

.

* * *

.

"I don't want to do this anymore," Harry whined, trying to jerk himself free from the twins' iron hold.

"Onwards, young hero!"

"Responsibilities await!"

" _Death_ is the only thing waiting for me," Harry said drily. "If I'm lucky. Prolonged torture if I'm not."

"Why choose one if our school offers both?"

Harry just looked at them miserably as they dragged him further down the corridor and to the seventh division studio.

"You didn't see him yesterday, he was- that was-… He's going to kill me, I'm not joking guys!"

"Here we are!" Fred exclaimed cheerfully, completely ignoring Harry's panic.

They pushed him a few steps through the open door.

George patted his back comfortingly. "We wish you the best of luck."

"This is your fault!" Harry yelled after them, receiving nothing but lazy raised hands in return.

Harry sighed and made his way through the studio, picking a spot in the corner that was furthest away from the front, hoping beyond hope that Snape would just ignore him today.

Four hours morning lessons with Snape. The whole afternoon with Snape. There was _no way_ Harry would survive the day after what happened yesterday.

Tom was already warming up at the barre that ran along the wall at the back. He gave Harry a curious look.

"I do wish you would tell me what happened between you and Professor Snape. I would have thought your relationship could not possibly get much worse."

"You and me both," Harry muttered.

In truth he had thought the snarky instructor had warmed up to him at least a _tiny_ bit since the man had resigned himself to the fact that Harry would have to be the Hero. Whatever small progress there had been, now Harry would never know because…well.

Snape entered the room.

And he was livid.

"No but seriously," Tom whispered behind him, his tone almost awed as he watched their teacher. " _What_ did you do to him?"

The door banged shut behind Snape, making everyone in the room flinch.

Harry shrunk back into the corner, resisting the urge to close his eyes and pretend to be invisible.

"Potter!"

The startled yelp that escaped Harry could have been a yes, or an apology, or a desperate plea for help.

"To the front!"

Harry was pretty sure he would take on Voldemort over the man in front of him any day. Snape was freaking scary.

He approached the front, convinced he was walking to his slaughter. But Snape's attention shifted back to the class, while he stormed over to the pianist to hand out the score.

"Everyone to their partners, we continue with our pas de deux. Begin!" he barked.

The students scrambled in their hurry to obey him, no one wishing to draw his ire.

Tom stepped up beside him calmly, appearing almost amused at the whole affair.

"He never even gave us a specific scene to practice," Harry whispered. "What are we supposed to do? I really don't want to infuriate him more."

"I don't think it's possible to make him even angrier," Tom mused, then shrugged. "Let's just do fifth act. We haven't done that since the auditions."

Harry snorted at him. "Do you want him to kill me? That's the most technique heavy dance I have!"

"Alright… Second then."

Harry wanted to argue that they hadn't touched that particular scene since the disaster during rehearsals and it might come out horrible, but they needed to start dancing or Snape would hone in on him.

Most of the scene required the snake to be there of course, but they could still practice their duet.

It went reasonably well from what Harry could tell. Without the haunting music and amongst other practicing students it was much easier to focus on the dance without getting lost in it.

He assumed it also helped that Tom was actually sticking to the damn choreography.

At least he thought it was going well until-

"Potter!"

Ugh.

"Sir?"

They froze in the pose they've just been holding, waiting as Snape glided through the room to them.

"Your leg is barely at a 90° angle when it needs to be _in line_. Up with it!"

Harry dutifully bend his torso to balance himself out as he extended his leg upwards, his muscles straining from the effort.

Snape gave a nondescript hum. "From the top!"

They began the duet from the beginning.

"Higher jumps, Potter!"

Harry gritted his teeth and put more force into his jumps. They had already completed the dance twice before Snape had come along, by now his muscles were screeching in protest.

They finished and Harry felt exhausted. The scene consisted mostly of the Hero trying to run away from danger. It was fast and tiring. Feasible enough if you went through it once, but not meant to be repeated non-stop.

Snape only narrowed his eyes. "Again."

Harry bit his tongue to hold back a snappish reply and they started again.

"Faster turns! Bend your arms! Keep. In. Line. Again!"

They started anew. Again and again. Until every muscle in his body was quivering and his lung was burning. His hair clung to his head from sweat, his concentration slipping.

"Again!"

There was no way they'd actually get better, Snape had to know that. At this point it was a simple battle of wills to see who caved first. Harry refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing him give up. Snape only waited for another opportunity to make his displeasure at his casting known.

"Again!" Snape called out before they had even fully finished this round.

Harry was practically shaking. Only Tom's steadying arms prevented him from falling over.

His legs felt wobbly as he went back and took his initial position.

Most of the class had stopped dancing at one point, all of them exhausted from their own practice when Snape hadn't announced any breaks.

Harry got through the dance automatically, every movement producing a sharp stab of pain. Tom was basically holding him up through most of it.

He still refused to collapse at the end, but he did allow himself to rest his hands on his knees, crouched over and breathing hard, the world shaking around him.

"Again!"

He couldn't do it anymore, he was barely able to stand. Resignation and rage clashed within him, hot angry tears prickling the edge of his eyes.

"Potter," Snape sneered when Harry didn't react, "I said _again_."

_I can't, I can't, I-_

"I can't."

The room went silent, everyone holding their breaths.

Harry looked up, wondering if he had misheard and accidentally voiced his thoughts, or if that had actually just happened.

Tom stood next to him, his posture upright and calm. He wasn't trembling, didn't seem exhausted. He was hardly out of breath.

Snape broke the silence after a while. "Excuse me?"

"I can't, sir," Tom repeated, his face impassive. "I'm afraid I'm at my limit."

"Mr Riddle, I have seen you dance through four hours without pause th-"

"I apologize professor," Tom cut in. "I must have overdone it yesterday."

It was a blatant _lie._

Harry knew Tom was usually an excellent liar, but he didn't even try to make it believable now. It was obvious to anyone in the room _who_ was at his limit. Yet Snape could hardly call the star student of the school out.

Dark eyes narrowed as the two stared each other down. Snape was the first to look away.

"Fine," he spat, then he turned and fixed Harry. "Your afternoon classes are cancelled until further notice."

Harry straightened. "I can do-…"

"Not everything is about you, Potter," Snape hissed. "Dismissed!"

He stormed out of the room, leaving a confused class behind. They've only had two of their four morning hours and Snape had never let them go early before.

Slowly the students started to gather their things, filtering out of the studio uncertainly.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry grumbled, avoiding Tom's eyes. "I was fine."

Tom was scrutinizing him, his lips pressed together tightly in mild displeasure. "You clearly weren't. Why didn't you just stop?"

"And let him win? I think not," he replied hotly.

"You are too stubborn for your own good. There was no way you could have prevailed. You do realize he could have kept going all day?"

Harry sniffed crossly. "Well I had to _try_."

"Idiot," Tom chuckled softly. He became serious when his eyes took in Harry's trembling limbs. "You should rest for the reminder of the day."

Harry knew Tom's suggestion was sensible. He would still feel the exhaustion tomorrow if he didn't. But while his body was tired, his spirit only gained momentum.

He crossed his arms in front of him, determined. "No, screw him. If I stop now it only proves him right."

"And if you keep pushing yourself over your limit it proves _what_ exactly?"

Harry remained silent and glared sulkily at the mirror in front of them.

"You can hardly stand," Tom tried to reason.

"I'm fine."

Tom sighed exasperated. "Suit yourself. I'll book a slot with the physiotherapist for you tomorrow."

"I won't need it," Harry grumbled.

"Yes, I'll accept your thanks later," Tom said as he packed up his own things and headed to the exit.

The door shut close behind him, leaving Harry standing alone in front of the vast mirror of the studio.

Harry sighed, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that told him this was an exceptional stupid idea. It sounded suspiciously like Tom.

He shook out his limbs, trying to get his muscles to relax a bit. Then he started practicing, driven by sheer determination.

He danced a scene from the very beginning of the ballet, before the Hero discovered magic and went to school.

It was the one dance Harry didn't like watching. It rang too true within him, too close to painful memories of loneliness.

He had dreaded the moment he'd have to practice it in front of Snape. But now his mind was set: he would perfect it before the man even saw it. He'd make the stoic man _cry_.

"Well shit, I thought Riddle was joking."

The voice made Harry stumble and since his concentration had already been suffering from his exhaustion, he only barely prevented an ungraceful fall.

"And _that_ was terrible," Draco drawled, eyeing him sceptically. "We can't have you look like that when you stumble on stage. It happens quite a lot you know, the trick is to recover quickly enough so no one will notice."

"Draco?" Harry asked perplexed. "What are you doing here?"

The blond student shrugged. "Tom told me you stayed behind to keep practicing. I didn't believe him."

"Snape cancelled my afternoon lessons. If he thinks that's going to keep me from dancing-"

"He cancelled because that was the only reasonable thing to do. You'll ruin your body if you don't listen to it."

"Yes yes, Tom mentioned it," Harry rolled his eyes. "Look I'll only practice until lunch okay? Do you feel better now?"

"Well I would, but your rendition of that dance just hurt my eyes. Do you even know the choreography Potter? That middle bit looked interpretive at best."

"So sorry to hear my dance scars you Draco, I'm sure you can find the door on your own."

He took up his position again and was about to start, but Draco didn't move from his spot.

He sighed and turned back around. "Yes?"

Draco once again seemed to struggle with himself. The boy clearly wanted and didn't want to say something.

"Your feet aren't parallel in fifth position, your arms are off during your second jump, you keep looking down and don't even get me started on your pirouettes."

Harry blinked. "Uhm… Are you…helping me?"

"I've been practicing for that ballet since I was _three_ Potter. The way you were just stumbling your way through that dance was revolting. I'm here to make sure you do it right."

"So you _are_ helping me," Harry repeated slowly. " _Why_ are you helping me? I thought-"

"That I want your role?" Draco sneered. "You're the second dancer in history who will dance the lead in 'A Prophecy'. _Everyone_ wants your role you idiot."

Harry kept staring at him confused. None of that had answered his question.

Draco huffed and tossed his head back. "The Rival isn't too bad really, it's a pretty big role. I plan to get a contract right after graduation and the end of year performance is the only way to do it without further auditions. If the ballet looks amazing then I will look amazing, so you better not screw this up for me."

A smug smile appeared on his face. "Besides, if I dance the Hero and don't do it _perfectly_ then the critics will tear me apart. End of career."

"Your concern for me is overwhelming," Harry remarked deadpan.

Draco shrugged unapologetically. "Less talking more dancing Potter, we have work to do."

Harry shook his head, wondering how he managed to exchange one rude teacher with another. But this was the first time Draco had talked to him, after his visit in the hospital wing. And Harry was grateful the blond seemed to have come to terms with the casting.

"Last time, what you told me… About your mother…"

Something flashed in Draco's eyes, a whirlwind of emotions too quick for Harry to discern. His face remained blank for a few seconds.

"Err, I mean it's-"

"I just wanted to scare you, Potter," Draco cut in haughtily. "It's an odd coincidence, nothing more. Really, who in their right mind would believe me?"

Harry didn't push him further, but he could tell Draco was less honest now than back then. Had he been so shaken after rehearsing the second act that he hadn't completely thought about what he would say to Harry? Was he afraid Harry would ridicule him now? Tell others?

Draco clapped his hands in a brisk, very Snape-like manner. "Now dance! You're flapping your arms so hard that the audience will mistake you for the owl."

Little did he know, that if anyone was ready to believe him, it was Harry.

.

* * *

.

Harry spent the afternoon in his dorm, obediently resting his body. He even went so far as to do several of the exercises the teachers had taught him and get some ice from the machine in the corridor.

He wondered if Snape would resume their lessons tomorrow, or if the man would refuse to teach him at all for the reminder of the year.

Harry hadn't even done anything! If anything, Snape was angry with himself but directed it towards Harry instead. It was plain unfair! What was he supposed to do?

He couldn't even talk with the instructor. After all, no one was supposed to know what happened in his past. Surely Snape would get even angrier if he knew Harry was aware of it.

He sighed miserably, just when the door to his room opened with an unnecessary bang.

"You sound cheery!"

Harry rolled over on his bed to glare at the twins.

"It's your fault. Everything is your fault."

Fred grinned at him. "We shoulder the burden of guilt every day-"

"I don't believe you."

"- but from what we heard someone is torturing himself out of pure stubbornness," George finished.

"Ugh, I'm going to kill Tom," Harry grumbled.

"Actually Malfoy told us."

"And the whole school."

Harry sluggishly sat up. "How can you stand this madness every year?"

"We are uniquely qualified to thrive in chaotic environments."

Harry snorted. "No shit."

George grabbed his arm and tried to pull him upwards. "You'll hate us less once we had dinner."

"Rehearsals ran late so we'll eat at Hogwarts as well. C'mon!"

They dragged him up and Harry reluctantly followed them out. They descended down the stairs and were about to exit the building when the entrance door opened and Tom entered.

Even after several hours of rehearsals Tom didn't look any more tired than in the morning.

"Running away again?" he asked Harry.

Harry's face heated up a bit at the reminder of his escapes, once in the middle of the night.

"Just dinner," he mumbled.

He suddenly realized he had never seen Tom at dinner, even though the older student clearly had nowhere else to go than the school, just like him. Harry wondered if it was intentional, or if he just had no one to eat with. He had eaten at the Weasleys after all.

He didn't really want to ask him, because Tom would surely team up with the twins and tease him constantly, but on the other hand he had stood up for Harry this morning.

For someone who was obsessed with perfect behaviour, defying a teacher couldn't have been easy for him. And so far Tom had proven to be purely egoistic even when helping him. But today he'd gone out of his way just to stop Harry's suffering.

"Err," Harry began uncertain. "Want to come with us?"

Tom's eyes widened a fraction. Thankfully it happened to be a rare occasion where the twins stayed silent.

Tom gave him a dazzling smile that put Harry on edge. And he just knew the other knew that.

"I would love nothing more, Harry," Tom said, then sighed wistfully. "Alas I actually have something to do this evening. Tomorrow, I hope?"

Harry suppressed a shudder. The twins wouldn't stay at Hogwarts tomorrow, so now he'd be stuck with Tom alone.

"Sure," he said feebly.

The twins grinned at him knowingly and Harry just wanted to kill every single person currently standing in front of him.

Satisfied, Tom disappeared upstairs.

Harry glared at the twins. "Not a word."

"We would never stand in your way to make new friends Ha-"

"Oh shut up," Harry said and went ahead quickly to escape their teasing.

They caught up to him while he stood in line to get their food. With a queasy feeling he noticed that the atmosphere in the great hall was once again bordering on depressed.

"Please tell me that isn't my fault again?" asked the twins.

George shook his head. "No, it's only the sixth division see?"

Harry once again looked around and could see that he was right. The remaining students of the sixth division looked particularly downcast.

"What happened? Was it during rehearsals?"

"No, but we only found out in the afternoon," Fred said, grabbing a tray to carry his food.

"Do you know Colin Creevey? He's the little guy in sixth division, plays the Unchosen."

Harry didn't remember meeting him.

"Well he didn't show up to classes this morning, but no one really thought too much of it."

Harry accepted his food and they made their way through the hall to find a seat.

"His roommate found him after lunch in their dorm. Colin had some kind of nervous breakdown or whatever. They say he's gone completely catatonic," George continued, sitting down in their usual spot.

Harry frowned. That sounded like one hell of a breakdown. "Just like that?"

"You'd be surprised how anxious most students are here. It's a lot of pressure to handle. And even though he was placed into sixth level, it was his first year at Hogwarts," Fred explained.

"First year can be tough, especially if you don't start in the lower divisions. And he had a pretty big role in the performance as well… Poor guy."

Harry had known of course. There was always a dark undercurrent of nervousness underlining the beautiful atmosphere the school offered. But still, to become an unresponsive catatonic overnight seemed a bit much.

"Is he in the hospital wing?"

"No, his parents came to take him home right away. He'll probably need specialised treatment."

They all remained silent for a while, Harry poking listlessly at his food.

George sighed dramatically. "And then good old Dumbledore just had to drop the second bombshell on us."

Seeing Harry's inquiring look, Fred went on. "He wants to bring another dancer from the auditions in to take over Colin's role, instead of giving it to a student."

"It would be the third big role that isn't danced by a Hogwart's student. People are not happy about it."

"Though I suppose by now they should be used to it," Fred joked.

"I do wonder what he-…" George began, but a loud static noise put a sudden halt to all conversations in the hall.

Harry froze alarmed. "What..?"

Fred waved his fork unconcerned. "Don't worry it's just the headmaster trying to get our loudspeaker to work."

"He uses it for his own amusement sometimes," George laughed. "Do you remember when he sung that nonsensical song during our lessons? Snape's face was priceless!"

Harry's heart had just calmed down when Dumbledore's voice rang out from the speaker. There was nothing playful or even faintly uplifting in his tone. He sounded more serious and grave than Harry had ever heard him.

"Attention Hogwarts. Every student is ordered to return to their dorms immediately. Remain there until further notice. Do not under any circumstances wander the school alone."

Judging from the other faces in the hall, everyone was just as confused and stricken as Harry.

"This is not a drill," Dumbledore's heavy voice continued to boom over the school. "Myrtle Warren was found dead in the girls' lavatory."

.

* * *

.

"Tom? Tom!" Harry shouted out of breath as he opened the door to their dorm.

The twins had escorted him to the dorm building and then returned home to their family. They had tried to convince Harry to come with them, but he had wanted to make sure Tom was safely in their room.

The older student was _always_ wandering the school alone. And Harry just couldn't shake the dreadful feeling in his gut since Dumbledore's announcement.

Tom wasn't in their room.

Harry cursed and was ready to leave again to search for him, when his eyes fell on Tom's desk.

It was normal for Tom to have a bunch of books laying around, but usually everything was neatly stacked and tucked away.

Now one of the books was open, discarded right in the middle of the desk. The pages seemed empty.

Curiously Harry moved closer, looking at the small leather bound book. A diary?

It was flicked open in the middle, but the pages were blank. Except no, not quite. At the bottom of the right page, two lines stood in Tom's elegant handwriting.

Harry's insides froze over, his mind pulled to an abrupt stop, his body overwhelmed with… Shock? Dread? Confusion? Premonition?

Two names were carefully spelled out, their letters joined with faint lines, rearranged into new meanings.

_TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_

_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I was able to include the anagram after all, yay! (And do you have any idea how long I thought about a suitable condition for Colin? People don't really turn into stone non-magically, pfff.)
> 
> Also: yes. Yes, I'm killing off characters. Fear me.


	11. When Delirium forges Dependence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the good news is I am actually not dead yet- the bad news is I am hella slow and it's not going to change soon.  
> Your reviews and patience (at this point it's more like faith lmao) are really appreciated :3  
> Enjoy :)

 

 

"We have to close the school."

Severus frowned at the weary finality in the headmaster's voice. Pessimism didn't suit the man at all.

"They say it was suicide."

"Does that make it any better?"

"As tragic as it is, suicide is far from unusual amongst young artists."

"Always the practical one," Dumbledore chuckled tiredly. "I was convinced you'd storm in here to rake me over the coals again."

That _had_ been Severus' plan. But Dumbledore's own despondence had taken the wind out of his sails quite effectively.

"And I was convinced you'd shrug it off again."

The headmaster looked crushed. "It has gone that far has it? For you to think I would dismiss the death of one of my students."

Severus shifted uneasily, an action only Albus was capable of evoking from him. "There are competitive art schools who experience these types of situations quite frequently-…"

"Not Hogwarts," Dumbledore interrupted decisively. "Never Hogwarts."

"I doubt a complete shut-down will do us, or the students, any good. Maybe the end of year production…"

He trailed off as Dumbledore's face went ashen. "No it… it can't be."

Something about the wording struck Severus as odd. "What can't be? You just argued for _closing_ the whole school!"

Dumbledore visibly pulled himself together, all traces of weakness gone. "We can't back down now."

"Headmaster, if we could just alleviate some of the stress-…"

"We will call for professional assistance," he continued. "Psychological counselling. They will know what to do. These children are stronger than they look."

"Or we could just stop what we both know is responsible for all of this!" Severus insisted. "Just look at the company who tried to do 'A Prophecy'! Five dancers dead, _probably_ suicide but inconclusive, another dozen mad, a few hospitalized permanently-…"

"They did it wrong."

"It's a _ballet._ Apart from screwing up the dance there's nothing to _do_ wrong!"

"And that Longbottom boy, we will need him," Dumbledore continued, apparently not hearing any of Snape's interjections. "Colin isn't going to recover fast enough."

"You agreed we would have to talk this through first! Albus, none of your decisions for that play are making sense!"

"Who is playing the Little Sister right now?" Dumbledore asked, still maddeningly ignoring him.

"Why?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Harry is close friends with the Weasley boys, I heard they had a young girl as well. If she has half the genes her brothers have she will do just fine."

Snape sprung out of his chair in agitation. "Oh so now we are just randomly replacing our students? This is outrageous!"

"Don't you see how close we are?" Dumbledore beseeched him. "I can practically feel it."

Snape was used to deal with stress. He was used to controlling his anger in the face of incompetence. He was used to reign in his temper when confronted with impossible demands. But the level of frustration the headmaster was currently evoking in him, had been evoking since they had started rehearsals, was something Snape hadn't experienced before.

"What are you talking about?"

"This time… This time for sure we will beat him," Dumbledore said quietly, looking through the window where a gentle rain had begun to wet the glass.

"Beat _who_?" It came out slightly desperate, because Snape didn't want to know the answer.

The headmaster didn't look at him, his gaze still directed towards the window, his eyes fixed on something that wasn't there.

"Voldemort."

 

* * *

 

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the words. At one point his hand had reached out for the page, but he had withdrawn his arm before it made contact. Something in him was deadly afraid to touch the simple words.

_I am Lord Voldemort._

It made sense, in a terrible way. All the things Tom always talked about; becoming the role, dedicating everything to a simple school production, insisting on finding the perfect cast.

What if he had gotten lost in the dance like Harry did, but had never found back? How much of it was real to Tom?

There had been something strange about the star pupil, Harry had sensed it from the very beginning. But there had also been an easy charm about him and an almost infuriatingly caring streak in his arrogant behaviour.

Harry had come to think of him as something close to a friend, despite their clashing personalities. A weird one, but still. And there was no denying that dancing with Tom was like nothing he'd experienced before. They just _fit_. And now…

He couldn't be trusted. How had he been so gullible before?

 _I'll be perfect._ Wasn't that what Tom had said? But too much perfection… too much obsession… He was dangerous. How far was he willing to go? What if he had truly _hurt_ people?

Harry needed to warn someone, now.

"Harry?"

The voice made him jump. "T-Tom."

His own voice sounded weird, raspy. Why was he close to choking? He needed to be confident now.

He stared at Tom's calm expression. He seemed so _normal._ It made this so much worse.

Something akin to anger bubbled up inside of him. He suddenly realized what this all-encompassing crushing feeling was. Betrayal.

He hadn't known how much he had started to trust Tom. But he had been the only one to experience what Harry did, the only one who understood him when Harry himself thought he was going mad. He was supposed to be the one Harry could talk to, when the dance swallowed him. The one that believed in him, had seen something in their very first dance.

"Did you kill her?" Harry asked coldly. It was insane and wrong to ask, but right now he couldn't seem to think clearly.

Tom, who had been in the process of shutting the door, paused and stared at him uncomprehendingly. And oh how very well he could pull off that innocent look with a face like his. But Harry had seen those gently confused blue eyes bleed red several times already.

"Excuse me?"

"Because I'm starting to think it's not me who gets sucked into the role. Why would you write something like that? Leave it open like that? Did you _want_ me to find it? What do you mean you are Voldemort?!" he was shaking by now, willing himself not to scream mindlessly at the other.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry laughed derisively. "You can drop the innocent mask Tom. Honestly, you think I'd believe anything that comes out of your mouth after you've been conveniently absent and _there's a dead girl in this school?!_ "

"A dead-…Who..? Wait, you think I _killed_ someone?"

"She was one of Voldemort's first victims as well wasn't she? Found in the bathroom, just like her role! And that poor girl in act 2 - that was you as well wasn't it? I _saw_ you, but you talked me out of it. Gods, you must think I'm so easy!"

Tom merely blinked at him. "Have you been dancing?"

He was asking it as if Harry was a relapsing drug addict.

"Stop deflecting, you all but confessed!"

"Did I now?" Tom's patient tone was gone, replaced with a sharp disdain. "And how exactly did _that_ happen?"

Harry pointed furiously to Tom's table. "You wrote it down right the-..!"

He stopped as his eyes followed his own finger, landing on the inconspicuously empty surface of the desk.

His thoughts flipped over each other so fast they momentarily stood still. He approached the desk numbly, staring at the empty spot.

"I…But…It-It was right there! I…"

He rummaged through the piles of books and stacks of papers on the desk, but the small book was nowhere to be found, no matter how zealously he searched.

Tom watched him disapprovingly. "If you're done going through my personal belongings…"

"There was a diary here, I _swear_ -…"

"A diary," Tom echoed and the disbelief in his voice cut Harry deeper than it should. "I don't even have one. And if I had, I certainly wouldn't let it lie around openly."

"But-…"

"What on earth happened here? I was gone from school and when I come back the building is deserted and you act like a lunatic."

"There… There was a dead girl found in the school. Myrtle Warren. And-and your name was right here, but rearranged and…and it spelled Voldemort and…"

Hearing it out loud just made it sound even crazier. Harry broke off, leaving them in uncomfortable silence.

"I see," Tom said flatly.

"Oh gods I'm going crazy aren't I?" Harry exclaimed dismayed. He let himself sink down next to his bed and put his head in his hands. "That's not normal, that's really really dangerous. I think… I think I need help." He laughed, dizzy with it all.

Tom now looked mildly concerned. "What about that is funny?"

"No, not funny. I'm just relieved," Harry explained, smiling softly despite the panic thrumming in his chest. "It's not you. It's _me_. It's not you."

"Well," Tom said, finally moving from his spot by the door. After a short pause of hesitation he carefully sank down on the floor next to Harry. "The teachers would probably tell you it's the pressure."

Harry bristled. "I'm not cracking due to-"

"I know."

Harry felt like sobbing. First deranged accusations and now humiliating weakness, all in front of Tom Riddle of all people. And the other was just sitting there next to him, bloody _understanding_ him. His friends, for all their awesomeness, would have dragged him to the hospital by now.

Another terrifying thought struck him and he turned to Tom rigidly. "What if it was me? What if I killed her? What if I hurt people?"

"Harry-…"

"I have to tell Dumbledore!"

He tried to scramble up, but Tom fiercely yanked him back down, which ended with his arm firmly around Harry that felt disturbingly close to an embrace.

"You are completely hysteric." Harry usually would have taken it as an insult, but right now Tom's cool rationality was a relief to his feverish thoughts. "Calm down."

For a long time they simply sat there on the ground. Harry tried to wriggle away once, but Tom only held him tighter and Harry felt absurdly relieved for it. It was embarrassing just how soothing his presence was.

"I think I'm completely unhinged, Tom," he whispered into the quiet after a while. "How will I keep myself together if I can't recognize reality anymore?"

"I'll tell you," Tom said simply. "I will tell you what is real."

Harry finally lifted his head and turned it slowly towards the other student.

He admired Tom. He hated Tom. He needed Tom. He liked Tom. There were probably tear tracks on his face right now. He was a mess. But Tom only smiled.

"Do you trust me, Harry?"

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was quiet. The only thing disrupting the silence were stifled sobs here and there.

The girls especially felt responsible. Myrtle didn't have many friends apparently.

While the tough curriculum erased most persistent bullying common to high schools, mean comments and deliberate exclusion could achieve the same results. Coupled with the fact that Myrtle's failing performances had recently forced her to repeat a year, it was believed that the absence of a stable group of friends to rely on had pushed her over the edge.

For the first time in the prestigious school history, a student seemed to have fallen completely through the cracks.

Dumbledore gave a short speech.

Harry barely listened, feeling numb. The world around him alternated between a blurry grey nothing and confusing bright colours.

Tom had sat down next to him this morning, as if they had taken their meals together since the beginning. He was listening to the headmaster intently and Harry didn't doubt the student would be able to repeat every word later on.

"He said students should vacate the dorms if possible, living with friends or relatives close by. I suppose he wants us to spend as little time as possible in the school," Tom said, and it was disconcerting how clearly Harry could perceive his words, when Dumbledore's had sounded like a barely comprehensible buzz.

"Where will you go?"

"I'll stay, I guess. Will you go live with the Weasleys?"

Harry shook his head. He couldn't possibly bother them again. And frankly he wasn't sure anymore whether it was safe for other people to be around him.

The students living at home started to arrive, none of them any happier.

And just like that Harry and the rest of the seventh division found themselves in their usual studio, expected to carry on.

As they waited for their lessons to begin, whispered rumours picked up at breakfast conveyed that while both the seventh and the sixth divisions seemed to be complete, the majority of the younger ones had not shown up.

While his classmates around him were busy discussing the grim news and its implications, Harry glanced at the clock and saw that someone else hadn't shown up yet. Their class should have started ten minutes ago, and Snape was nowhere to be seen.

"Has he ever…?"

"No, never," Tom answered immediately, watching the seconds tick by like Harry.

It took another five minutes for everyone in the room to notice Snape's unpunctuality and almost ten more before the man finally showed up. He wasn't alone, which only seemed to darken his mood.

The man behind him stood out in the crowd of dancers with their upright postures and a walk that often seemed closer to floating. Compared to them, the man's posture appeared almost slumped. His clothes were noticeably too wide for him, a fact accentuated by the tight clothes everyone else wore for dancing. His walk was slow and deliberate, something Harry had forgotten how it looked, surrounded by the ever-lasting hurried bustling about of students and teachers in Hogwarts.

He was quite obviously not a dancer. He had also somehow - and most likely undeservedly - drawn Snape's ire. A fact that didn't bother him at all apparently, judging by the small amused smile on his face as he watched the scowling man address the class.

"Students," Snape said irritated, gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Remus Lupin. He's here to crack open your skulls and pry through your personal affairs until you have a life-long headache from-…"

"Counselling," Lupin spoke up. "Discussions, talks, assistance with whatever might trouble you… Anything I can do to help, really."

Snape's scowl deepened. "Exactly what I've been saying."

"Not everyone has the same aversions as you, Severus," Remus replied calmly. "In fact I doubt anyone has as many aversions as you do. Maybe we should schedule a session for you? My offer extends to the faculty."

James and Sirius made impressed whistling noises from behind Harry.

"Or maybe, you could stop wasting everyone's time," Snape pressed out.

"As I understand it, your class is the one most involved in the end of year production and as seniors with an uncertain future ahead of themselves, the ones facing the most stress." Lupin pointedly turned away from Snape and addressed the class directly. "My office will be located right next to the Headmaster for the reminder of the year. _Please_ don't hesitate to drop by, for whatever reason, or no reason at all, if you'd like."

His eyes swept over the students assembled in front of him and Harry could have sworn they lingered on him. He swallowed nervously.

The lesson after that was…an experience. Students certainly tried their best, finding some comfort in their routines, but everyone was distracted and spirits were low.

Curiously enough, Snape showed little to no desire to correct them. He stood in front of the class, watching them as usual, but his eyes were unfocused. For someone who could be described solely by his sneer and his piercing eyes, the absence of both made for a discomforting picture.

Their lethargic training was interrupted by the door banging open violently. Snape's habit of locking his classrooms during lessons must have been interrupted by Remus Lupin, and the usually stoic man winced just as badly as his students at the unexpected sound.

It took Harry a moment to understand that the shrieking and wailing flurry storming into their studio was a woman.

She basically threw herself at Draco, knocking over his partner in the process, her skinny arms clutching him tightly. The boy's face was completely closed-off, ignoring everyone's stares.

Snape was the first to recover. "Mrs Malfoy..?"

Harry's eyes widened. Draco's mother… Crazy, according to her family, believing most of the time that her son had died. Draco had confided in him despite the fact that her mental state was carefully kept from the world. What was she doing here?

The woman only sobbed harder.

"Narcissa," Snape tried again.

The woman sniffled and reluctantly turned away from Draco to glare at Snape. "You were supposed to keep him safe! You _promised_!"

Snape seemed unfazed, but watched her guardedly. "He is safe."

"He is not! How could you say that?" She was small and bony, but her fury made her appear larger as she stormed over to Snape.

"You promised!" She said again, stabbing her finger into his chest for emphasis and then apparently let go of the last of her inhibitions as she started to drum her fists on him repeatedly. "Whose side are you on?!"

There was something disturbing in watching Snape not fight back at all as she screamed at him incoherently.

"Draco, get your father," he ordered quietly and the blond student immediately bolted out of the room.

The rest of the class stood frozen, mutely watching the woman continue to beat their teacher in front of them. The steady calm with which Snape took it suggested he had experienced it before.

After a few moments she became limp and all but sagged against him, even her sobs abated.

Hearing about her from Draco was one thing, actually seeing it struck Harry to the core. _This_ was what he had reminded Draco of? It was horrifying.

Suddenly her head snapped around, her eyes finding him and Harry forgot to breathe. He had expected insanity, but there was only sadness and pain in her eyes.

She took a step in his direction and Snape, looking up to see what had caught her attention, tried to hold her back but she slipped past his grip.

"Please save him," she whispered, approaching quickly now and Harry took an involuntary step back. "I don't care if everyone thinks I'm crazy, please."

"Narcissa," Snape warned, taking a few hesitant steps in their direction. "Get away from him."

Her fury returned instantly, like a light being switched on. One of her hands flew forward to grab Harry, the other gestured wildly to Snape. Her hands were ice-cold.

"Don't you know who he killed?" she shouted, her eyes imploring Harry to understand what her words obviously failed to convey. "Don't you know he betrayed everyone? You saw it with your own eyes! He can't be trusted!"

She seemed angry at Snape, not Harry, but the fact that she was screaming in his face did nothing to put him at ease.

He took another step back in an attempt to get away from her and before she could close the distance again, Tom was suddenly there, shielding him.

Narcissa recoiled sharply upon seeing him.

"So it's like that already? Then we have lost," she said, softly now. Her eyes darted from Tom to Harry and back again. Her face lost all of its previous animation and her shoulders sagged down. Silent tears filled her eyes as she fixed Tom. "You killed my son."

Harry chanced a glance at him, but Tom appeared unmoved.

Lucius Malfoy arrived, but his gentle persuasion fell on deaf ears. If anything, Narcissa did not seem to respond at all to her surroundings. In the end, he simply took her by the arm and steered her out of the room.

"No one leaves this room!" Snape barked, and rushed out after them.

The door shut behind them and the class erupted into frantic whispers.

"What the _hell_?"

"Was that Draco's mother? What happened to her?"

"Did you see Snape's face?"

"She said he killed someone."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Not going to lie, my parents almost didn't allow me to come back and now this."

"Are you okay?" The last one was directed at him and Harry looked up, seeing Tom staring at him.

"Am I okay?" Harry echoed incredulously. "Are _you_ okay? She just accused you of killing her son and whatnot."

"Yes that seems to be a recurring problem."

"Oh. _Oh_ ," Harry said, remembering his own accusations guiltily. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm playing an evil mastermind, people have a hard time separating role and actor. It's nothing new, really."

He truly did seem completely unbothered by it. Harry had to remind himself that despite Tom's ambitions he had never seemed to need anyone's approval. He just _knew_ he was that good. It would be arrogant, if it wasn't also infuriatingly true.

"You said that in order to do the role justice it's not enough to just follow the choreography, that you have to become them," Harry said cautiously. "How can you… how can you do it? Become him? Representing someone like Voldemort?"

_When his character leaves a trail of insanity behind for anyone that comes close._

Tom looked at him closely and for a moment it seemed like he was going to answer earnestly.

Then he simply shrugged. "I guess I'm just that talented."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. "You are incorrigible."

"Don't worry, I happen to think very highly of your own talents," Tom said, giving him his most charming smile.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Are you sure? I tried threats before and it didn't seem to do the trick either."

Harry snorted. "Maybe I'm immune."

"Unacceptable."

"Try harder then," Harry quipped.

Only the pause in their conversation and Tom's stare made him realize that perhaps he shouldn't have said that.

"Hmm. Maybe I will."

Harry's mouth felt suddenly dry.

The door to their studio opened again, this time only a crack. Still, agitated as they were everyone immediately noticed it and turned their heads.

The boy who entered flushed brightly at their collective scrutiny. There was an awkward silence as neither the boy nor the class seemed to know what was happening.

"I-…" the boy finally began, still half hidden by the door, his voice slightly squeaky from panic. "I'm N-Neville?"

He formulated is as a question, but obviously no one had a response for him.

"I'm here for the role of the Unchosen?" the boy continued, his eyes searching the room, probably noticing the lack of teacher or any kind of activity for that matter. Everyone was just standing around, even though this was supposed to be a class.

From somewhere several floors below them, a scream travelled through the halls of the school.

Neville gulped. "Is, uh, is this a bad time?"

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And down down the rabbit hole we go...


	12. When Identities intermingle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows dust off this fic*  
> *coughs*

"Tea?"

"Uhm…sure," Harry said, fidgeting in his seat.

He had evaded Lupin for days now, but the school's new counsellor had proven persistent. He wasn't one to take a simple no for an answer and at some point Harry had run out of plausible excuses.

Lupin smiled at him and set out to get another cup.

It was of course understandable that Lupin would focus on him as much as he did. Not only was Harry dancing the lead role, but also his circumstances how he had gotten the part were highly unusual. Not to mention the fact that he had already landed himself in the hospital wing because of an apparent mental breakdown.

Hence Harry's attempt at evading the psychologist. He was well aware that he was starting to look crazy to normal people, let alone a professional.

Lupin handed him a steaming cup of tea and sat down in the opposite armchair. His office was cozy and inviting, which only heightened Harry's anxiousness.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I,uh, I'm supposed to be in class now."

"I'm sure your teacher will understand."

Harry furrowed his brows sceptically. "I have Snape for the next period…"

"I know."

"You learned my schedule?"

Lupin sipped his own tea. "I might or might not have selected this time specifically to piss him off."

A short laugh escaped Harry before he could stop it. "You really don't like him huh?"

"On the contrary, I'm trying to help him," Lupin answered, making Harry choke on his tea.

"But you just said…"

"He decided to hate me long ago," Lupin shrugged. "The least I can do is give him enough reasons to continue doing so. I believe he likes the feeling."

"I don't…" Harry began, then switched. "You've known him before?"

Lupin chuckled amused. "I was his counsellor for a while."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "He agreed to that?"

"It was Dumbledore's condition for hiring him after his…withdrawal…from active dancing. I don't think he ever forgave me for seeing him at his lowest."

"Oh."

Lupin set his tea away and leaned forwards. "But enough about dear Severus, how are you?"

"I'm good," Harry said, just barely managing to not look away.

Lupin's kind smile didn't falter. "Anything worrying you?"

"Not really."

"Any _one_ worrying you?"

That brought him up short. "Uhm…"

He must have looked particularly startled, for Lupin switched to a less direct approach.

"I understand your circumstances haven't always been easy and you lived on your own for the most part. It must be strange suddenly living in a dorm and spending all of your time around people."

"Oh, no it's…nice," Harry stammered lamely, then pulled himself together. "I mean, a lot of the Weasley's are here, which is really great, and also there's Hermione and Luna and James and Sirius-"

"And Tom?" Lupin finished.

Harry gulped. "Yeah, sure. And Tom."

"You're getting along then? With your, ah, _mortal enemy_? I heard he refused to dance until they allowed you in the production, even though you two didn't know each other before."

"He can be…intense," Harry admitted. "But I mean he has to be, right? To become Voldemort."

Something seemed to flash in Lupin's eyes and Harry was sure that if the man had some paper he would start making notes.

" _Become_ Voldemort," Lupin repeated slowly. "Interesting choice of words."

Harry shifted uneasy. "Is it?"

"I've heard the exact same over and over, but only ever when talking to people involved in 'A Prophecy'. When asked about their roles, every other dancer uses interpret, play, dance, be. What is it about Lord Voldemort that one needs to _become_?"

Harry remembered red eyes, a cold voice, and movements far beyond what's humanly possible.

"I-I don't know. You should ask Tom."

"I would, but so far he proves to be even more elusive than you."

There was no accusation in his tone, but Harry flushed with embarrassment nonetheless.

Lupin's smile returned. "I understand you are all very busy. I just wish with everything that already happened you'd invest some time to take care of yourselves."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. For as long as he could remember, dancing had _been_ his way of taking care of himself. To lose himself in the movements, to forget about his worries. Now? Every time it happened he seemed to step into a world that had more problems than his real one.

"I heard Tom fell from the stage during a rehearsal while another dancer had a diabetic shock. They also told me you appeared to have a panic attack. Would you mind telling me what caused it?"

"I don't know what happened," Harry said immediately, probably sounding a bit too defensive.

"Is it that you don't _know_ or that you don't _understand_?"

"I don't know- I mean, I don't know what you mean by that, uhm…" Harry stammered.

Lupin remained patiently calm. "Alright, let's forget about the action for a moment. Maybe you could tell me how you felt?"

"I felt… I thought I felt like…" Harry shook his head. "It's stupid."

"Definitely not. All your feelings are valid, Harry."

"Uh-huh," Harry made uncertainly. "I just… I thought I killed him."

"Tom?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He was relieved to see that Lupin remained unfazed. Maybe Harry had been making this into a bigger deal than it actually was.

"Because that's what happens to Voldemort when the diary is destroyed," he mumbled.

"It is perfectly normal to project the character you're playing onto yourself," Lupin assured him.

Harry chewed his lip anxiously. "Yeah, but, that's not what happened is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Hero isn't supposed to feel _anguished_ when he destroys Voldemort."

Lupin shrugged. "Maybe your Hero does."

"So… It's the other way around? I'm projecting myself onto the character?"

"I guess that's one way to put it. There's nothing wrong with that, Harry. In fact I'm sure it's unavoidable. It only becomes a problem when you let yourself get confused. You cannot let it overwhelm you. It might sound hard, but there are simple exercises you can go through to ground yourself."

Harry held back a sigh. Lupin meant well, but there was no way a few grounding exercises would help in Harry's case. How could he possibly describe to him the sheer _realness_ of what he experienced so vividly - not once, but several times?

"I, uh, I'll remember that," he answered dully.

Lupin beamed at him. "And it is just as important to remember that you have friends you can rely on. Especially if someone is giving you a hard time."

"No one's really giving me a hard time," he said.

"Are you sure? I think the recent tragedy in the school has shown us that we should never underestimate the damage a difficult social environment can have."

"Is that why they called you here? Because of Myrtle?"

"I am mostly here to prevent it from happening again, yes."

"Well I hope you, uhm, succeed in that," Harry said awkwardly.

Lupin smiled warmly. "Thank you, I hope so too."

He wouldn't though, if Myrtle's cause of death wasn't actually suicide.

Harry shook his head, angry at himself for once again letting himself think this way. Lupin might think that all his feelings are valid, but Harry knew better. Just because he was feeling paranoid didn't give him an excuse to think he knew more than everyone else. If the majority was experiencing something in a certain way, then surely this weighted more than Harry's own vague feelings.

"So there's no one bothering you?" Lupin asked again. "Everyone is treating you alright despite being an outsider?"

Harry shrugged. "They're coming around…"

"Even Snape?"

"Welll," Harry sighed. "I thought he might. But now… You wouldn't happen to know how to apologize to him?"

Lupin laughed at his dejected tone. "Apologize to Severus Snape? Are you sure it was your fault?"

"It wasn't," Harry protested. "But I still feel bad."

"Honestly I don't think forgiveness is something Snape is familiar with," Lupin said. Upon seeing Harry's crestfallen expression he continued earnestly. "However, I do believe he genuinely wants little more than for his students to succeed. So if you were to ask me how to get through to him…Well, I would say the easiest way is to exceed his expectations."

Harry snorted. "Yeah right, that's impossible then."

"You managed to impress some of the most important people in the exclusive world of ballet. Surely you'd have at least a chance at meeting Snape's approval."

Harry was pretty sure nothing would ever meet Snape's approval, least of all him, but he kept that to himself and simply shrugged silently.

"Has he ever actually seen you dance?" Lupin asked.

Harry glanced at him confused. "Of course he has."

"Not for practice. How many times did you _dance_?"

Harry knew exactly what he meant. There was something that clicked into place every time he fully immersed himself into a dance. His movements during lessons were nothing compared to those moments.

He thought about the question and made a mental list of all the times it had happened in front of Snape. There had been the audition and then once during class. The fateful rehearsal of act 2 as well, but apparently Snape hadn't actually been watching then.

"Twice."

"Alone?"

"No. I have very few solos actually."

Lupin tilted his head. "So he's only seen you dance with others."

"Others make me better," Harry pointed out.

"But not who you are."

Harry blinked. Lupin had a way of rendering him perplexed. Lupin gathered their empty tea cups and Harry was relieved when a glance to the clock revealed it to be time for lunch.

"Find who you are," Lupin advised while Harry slowly got up. "Show it to him, to yourself and to the world."

Harry nodded mutely, shuffling past Lupin as he held the door open for him.

"Oh and Harry?" Lupin called as he was already out in the corridor. "Finding is the easy part. The tricky bit is not losing it."

 

* * *

 

Harry had almost been certain that Draco wouldn't be there. He hadn't shown up in classes for the past few days, to no one's surprise. The incident with Narcissa had been odd to say the least and Harry, like everyone else, had assumed Draco had gone home until things settled.

Instead, an annoyed voice rang through the dorm's door.

"No I am still not answering any questions, go away."

Despite the dismissal, the door opened anyways, a disgruntled Draco peeking warily outside.

"Uh, I could use some help?" Harry said.

"Potter," Draco greeted and opened the door a bit wider, his face returning to his usual haughty expression. "What do you want?"

"Like I said I need-… Is that jazz?"

Draco's cheeks reddened and he quickly disappeared inside his room, cursing under his breath.

Harry slowly followed him inside. Draco was fiddling with a stereo system and eventually the music stopped. All that was left was awkward silence.

"You know it's okay to like something else than classical music, right?" Harry said eventually.

Draco crossed his arms in front of him defensively. "I don't like- I mean- Don't be stupid."

Harry sent him an unimpressed look and Draco deflated. "…Sometimes."

"Can you dance it?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'm a ballet dancer," Draco exclaimed indignantly.

"Okay."

" _Okay_."

Harry decided to drop the issue. "Right. So. I need someone to give me feedback on my first scene in act one."

"Your opening solo? Why?"

"I just…want it to be perfect."

Draco looked at him sceptically. "You know, that's what teachers are for. And I already helped you with that dance once."

"I need it to be perfect _before_ Snape sees it."

And while he still believed impressing Snape was not an option, a perfect version of the dance should at least render him…reluctantly satisfied.

"Fair enough," Draco said. "Why don't you ask Riddle? "

"W-why should I?"

The thought of dancing, not _with_ but _for_ Tom, was unthinkable to him. He already felt raw and vulnerable whenever they were dancing together. He did not want to imagine what it would be like to open himself up for that kind of scrutiny. He still shuddered every time he thought about Tom watching him in the park.

Draco shrugged. "You're roommates and he threw a hissy fit when they considered anyone else for your role?"

"He also seems to have been born with the perfect technique, I doubt he could help me."

"Are you implying I wasn't?" Draco asked affronted.

Harry gave him another blank look. "Are you playing Voldemort?"

"He is older you know," Draco grumbled. "Just you wait."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Will you help me or not?"

"Fine. Not like I have any better things to do," Draco muttered.

Afternoon rehearsals had once again been suspended for an unknown amount of days. It was only understandable, after all teachers couldn't just ignore the death of a student and the parents were concerned.

In the past few days the students themselves had gotten over the initial shock of it. This _was_ a top ballet school. The students were willing to sacrifice a lot for their ambition and lately Harry had asked himself if that included some of their sympathy.

Especially amongst the seventh division, a growing unease was festering at the delay. All their dreams hinged upon their end of year performance, being seen by the world and landing contracts in dance companies.

For the first time in the prestigious school, the production was well behind schedule. It was not something that agreed with the perfectionistic attitudes of the carefully groomed dancers.

"Great, thanks," Harry said relieved. "Let's search for an empty training room."

They walked in silence through the deserted corridors. Sometimes they would cross larger classrooms where the lower divisions' regular afternoon classes were continuing normally, but otherwise the school was eerily empty.

"So uh, you haven't been in class lately," Harry began, trying to break the uneasy silence.

"I said I'm not answering any questions."

"It wasn't a question," Harry murmured, but was prepared to let it go.

But Draco surprised him by continuing. "She's pretty fine as long as she stays home. I mean, she believes weird stuff, but otherwise she was doing okay." He sighed. "I guess she must have heard my father and I talk about the new production. We should have been more careful."

"Did you tell her who was playing the Hero?"

"She might have heard an argument we were having that it wasn't me," Draco admitted pensively. "But I don't think your name ever came up. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry deflected quickly.

It had been bothering him and Draco's answer did nothing to reassure him. Because back then, Narcissa had gone straight to him. As if she had known exactly which role he was playing.

But no. The recognition in her eyes had been even stronger than that.

It was as if she had known exactly who he was.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, to the collective relief of the seventh division, it was announced that rehearsals would start again that afternoon.

Harry knew that if he wanted his plan to succeed, now was the last chance he would get.

Draco had never asked why Harry was so obsessed with making this one scene perfect without any input from the teachers, but he certainly hadn't held back in criticising his dancing.

Harry felt like they had made good progress, but it had never _clicked_. He was worried that it never would and he knew he wouldn't be able to win Snape over with his technique alone.

Which was why he was a bundle of nervous energy by the time their last morning lesson came to an end. The clock on the wall read 12:00 sharp. While everyone else was filtering out of the room, Harry was hanging back.

Snape had been ignoring him completely during the past days and even now he showed no signs that he realized Harry was there, even when they were the last two people in the room.

It wasn't until he tried to walk out the door and Harry literally blocked his path that Snape was forced to admit his presence.

"Potter."

"Professor."

Snape sighed and fixed him with an annoyed look. "What do you want?"

"An actual teacher would be nice."

Snape's expression darkened. "Now look here you insolent-"

"I'm going to dance now," Harry interrupted. "You can leave if you want. Just stay for the beginning. Please?"

He went to the stereo and selected the very first number on their recorded music, before taking his position in the middle of the room. Snape, who had looked like he was about to argue some more, froze as he recognized the first few notes.

It was the only scene Harry didn't like in 'A Prophecy'. The one scene before the magic.

Friendless, poor, abused, overlooked, _alone_. It hit much too close to his own childhood.

Dance was his magic, his letter to freedom, to life. And Harry knew, had seen it immediately as Snape had started to dance, that it was the same for him.

And if Snape continued to _not_ dance, if he renounced his magic, then he would have to return to that hopeless fate.

Harry assumed that somewhere deep down Snape was aware of that. But sometimes things had to be spoken aloud to fully sink in. Harry wasn't good with words, but maybe he could show it instead.

He closed his eyes and the world disappeared.

 

When he opened them again he was breathing hard and sweating heavily. He was also crying.

"I- huh?"

He hastily wiped the tears away, glancing around in confusion. The clock on the wall indicated 12:14. Barely a quarter hour had gone by and yet - it _had_ gone by, apparently.

His body was tired, but he did not remember moving. He had always been prone to spacing out, but _this_ bad?

Snape was staring at him.

Oh gods, what if Harry had done something weird again?

"Uh, sorry," he said, chuckling nervously. "You were the one who was supposed to cry, actually."

He chewed his lower lip in worry. He had no way of knowing _what_ he danced, let alone how well he'd done it. Had he managed to convey anything at all?

Snape ran a hand over his face. He looked tired.

"Potter," he began, voice slightly trembling. "Where did you learn how to dance?"

Harry furrowed his brows. "I told you that at the auditions. I'm self-taught." Snape remained silent so Harry cautiously continued. "Was it…good then?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"I'm not!" Harry protested. "I'm, jeez, I'm trying to- whatever."

"No one should be able to dance that well. You- do you even begin to understand what you just did?"

He sounded angry, despite the apparent compliment.

"Thanks? I'm sorry?" Harry offered, bewildered.

Snape let out a long sigh. "I have a dead student, one more injured in intensive care, a headmaster running amok, the rest of the school depressed and a lead who's either indescribable brilliant or barely adequate. Unreliable. Unpredictable. I do not like these words, Potter."

It was probably not the best time to tell him that he had just lost time.

"I don't know how to help with the other stuff, but I won't get better if you don't teach me."

"Get better?" Snape snorted drily. "Silly boy. There is no better than that." He gestured vaguely in Harry's direction. "The only question is, why don't you always dance like this?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, his face heating up slightly from the unexpected praise. "For a while now I thought… I thought it was Tom. He's such a good dancer that it forced me to improve to keep up."

"Mr. Riddle isn't here," Snape pointed out.

"No. I wanted to prove that I can be just as good alone. That I'm…"

_That I'm worth it._

He'd also wanted to find who he was. And wasn't it a strange sort of irony that apparently he had found it, but despite Lupin's advice had already forgotten it?

"You are not just as good, you are better."

"But- but we really dance well together!"

"Yes. But if you were to dance like _that_ , then even Mr. Riddle would struggle to keep up with you."

Tom struggling? Impossible.

"Now you are mocking me," Harry glared.

"I'm not. But you don't seem to be aware of how important your role is," Snape insisted. "I need you to find the presence to counter Tom. _Consistently_. I need you to beat him."

Harry frowned. Snape's formulation sounded odd to him. "But sir, everyone knows the Hero will win in the end. It has nothing to do with my skills. The choreography is written." He paused uncomfortably. "Isn't it?"

"Of course. I don't know why I said that," Snape said distraught. "I guess what I mean is that it has to _feel_ real." He shook his head as if to clear it, his scowl deepening. "I need to think. You and your bloody dancing confuse me."

Harry reared back slightly at the sudden accusation.

Snap's expression softened. "That wasn't a reprimand. Art is meant to evoke emotions, yours simply…overwhelms a bit."

Trust Severus Snape to simultaneously compliment and blame someone.

"Thank yo-"

Snape jerkily waved him away. "Now get out! You're missing lunch and we still need to put something else than skin on those bones."

Harry huffed. "Your concern for me is truly touching."

"I could say the same about yours," Snape remarked.

Harry met his meaningful look sheepishly. He had danced that scene mostly because he wanted to prove himself and get back into his teacher's good graces, but he also had hoped to show it to Snape as a sort of warning. Which, come to think of it, might have overstepped some boundaries. Again.

Snape seemed frustrated. "That wasn't a reprimand either. I'm trying to say…"

"Emotions don't come very easy to you, do they sir?" Harry asked into the awkward silence.

"Who are you, Remus Lupin?" Snape exclaimed indignantly, though Harry could see his lips twitch upwards. "Off with you!"

Harry hastily ducked out, laughing quietly to himself.

He felt loads better than in the morning, or the previous days for that matter. This tense situation with Snape had caused him a lot of anxiety, which did not sit well on top of everything else.

In fact he was so relieved that he could almost forget the uneasy feeling which had grown at something Snape had said before.

There was no doubt that 'A Prophecy'had always felt more real to him than any other ballet. But even before he had gotten personally involved, some things had always nagged him. Certain points had just always felt…off.

The rival dies in flames.

The champion survives.

The hero wins.

He remembered how Tom had completely ignored the choreography while rehearsing act 2. And while it didn't change the story, the small alterations in the steps had made it feel real. Had made it feel right.

Dancing with Tom had made him realize what he previously couldn't name.

The choreography was written - And it was wrong.

 

* * *

 

In the evening, after a thankfully uneventful but exhausting rehearsal, Harry was sitting on the floor of his dorm room. He was dutifully going through his stretch exercises, but his mind kept wandering back to the morning and the missing piece of time where his dance should have been.

It couldn't have gone better really. Snape seemed impressed, they had a surprisingly civil conversation and they just might be able to move on. He'd done it. He'd proven himself to Snape.

But the fact that he hadn't exactly been present during the dance rubbed him the wrong way, mostly because he had also tried to prove himself _to himself_. That he could dance the Hero. That he could handle this, whatever this was. That he knew who he was.

Still stretching his legs, Harry turned his head to look at Tom, who was sitting on his bed, deeply absorbed in a book.

 _Find who you are._ Lupin had said. _Find the presence to counter Tom._ Snape had demanded.

What if it was one and the same? What if the meaning of his whole existence from here on in would be defined by standing opposite of Tom? Did his solo dance slip from his mind because Tom wasn't there and thus there was no reason for him to be?

"You're staring," Tom said, not looking up from his book.

"Why are you dancing?" Harry asked, giving up on his stretching and folding his legs instead.

"I promised I would if you'd agree, remember?"

"No I mean, _generally_ ," Harry stressed.

Tom shrugged. "Because I can."

"Seriously?" Harry snorted.

"I'm good at it."

"I'm sure you'd be good at many things. Why settle for dancing?"

Tom finally looked up from his book. "My, Harry, I believe that was a compliment. I'm flattered, really."

"Oh shut up," Harry grumbled, ears turning red.

He half expected Tom to leave it at that, but to his surprise the other returned to the question. "It combines art and sports, plus the fame will catapult you into high society. What more could I want?"

Harry frowned. "So, what, you don't even like it more than other stuff? There's no…feeling when you dance?"

"Feeling?"

"You know." Harry gestured vaguely. "Passion."

Tom took his time to consider the question. "There wasn't," he answered eventually.

The answer seemed strange. "And now?" Harry pressed on.

"I don't know about passion, but there's… purpose."

"Because of the end of year performance?" Harry guessed.

"No." Tom sounded slightly amused.

"Why then?"

Toms smiled at him. He had seen Tom charm people easily with just his smile. But he had never seen one such as this. It was almost fond.

"Because of you."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is really no single reason why this took me so long. I would promise to never let you wait this long again but... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I'm not sure if I already bragged about [this fanart](http://somniens.tumblr.com/post/143364891055/so-ive-been-reading-this-great-fic-blurring), but I love it and will continue to shove it in your face anyways.
> 
> See you ~~in the next life or whatever~~ soon haha...*sigh*


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